Wherever You Go
by beth-is-rainpaint
Summary: A series of missing scenes set before, during, and after the books: what could have or should have happened. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 14: Ty felt a sudden flash of dislike for Amy's history professor too. No, that's dumb. I don't even know him. This is just what college means."
1. Part 1: Before, Chapter 1

_I don't know if anybody's out there who remembers "Come Home Running," the story I wrote and posted from 2007 – 2008. I took the story down back in 2009 so that I could do extensive revisions with the hope of eventually reposting it. Six years later, I don't think that's going to happen. I have a degree in English, not equine veterinary medicine, so although I definitely feel I've become a better writer, I don't feel I know everything I would need to know to write post-college Amy in a full-length story the way I wanted to._

 _I'm more than twice the age I was when I read my first_ Heartland _book, but I can't get Amy and Ty out of my head. There are still some things I wonder about and some things I'd like to see happen. And although I don't have the knowledge or vocabulary to write a multi-chaptered story that would best reflect the world of Heartland after Amy graduates from college, I have learned some things that—I hope—will help me to write these snapshots._

 _Some of the characterization is influenced by the TV show. I really like Amber Marshall's interpretation of Amy. And Shaun Johnston's gruff, interfering, loving Grandpa_ is _Grandpa. I love Ty Borden's character development, but the sweet, quiet Ty Baldwin of the books is the one who shows up in my stories. Although I think TV!Tim is wonderfully written and acted, my Tim is definitely Book!Tim—British, curly salt-and-pepper hair, comparatively mellow. My Lou is blonde and married to Scott Trewin; she was, is, and always will be a planner who likes to have control, but she's much more polite on the phone than her television counterpart._

"Across the sea / The space between / Everything you think you know / The things you keep / And bury deep / Underneath the melting snow / I'll follow." – "Wherever You Go" by Audrey Assad

 **Part 1: Before**

 **Chapter 1**

It was Tim's running joke, throughout the twelve years their marriage lasted, that Marion fell in love with his horse first. And whether he was teasing her in private or in front of a group of friends and family, Marion would always laugh and say, "That's only because I saw Tennison a minute before I saw you."

()()()()()

 _July 1980_

At the risk of making Delilah jealous, the blood bay gelding cantering around the paddock in the summer sun was, Marion decided, the most beautiful horse she'd ever seen. Large, curved ears; gleaming brown-red points on a deep mahogany coat; silky jet black mane and tail; conformation to die for—he had all of that plus a fiery spirit that showed as he tossed his head and kicked up his heels.

"Good-looking fellow, isn't he?"

Marion sucked in a breath, looked to her left, and blinked. A young man at least a foot taller than she was with short, curly brown hair, flint gray eyes, and immaculate riding clothes stood grinning next to her. He had the slightest cleft in his chin and a spray of freckles across his high cheekbones.

Finally, she found her voice. "Yes, he is."

"Sorry if I gave you a fright." His voice was kind and his smile was warm.

"No, you're all right. I was just staring at—" She breathed a laugh and nodded at the horse still cavorting in the field, mostly to avoid looking at the man who she knew, right then and there, she was going to marry someday.

"His name's Tennison." The young man stepped forward and rested his arms on the rail.

As if she were getting ready to jump a course, moths—she'd always found moths flightier than butterflies and thus more representative of the feeling—fluttered in Marion's stomach. "He's gorgeous. Who does he belong to?"

His grin widened. "He's mine."

"Wow." They were silent for a moment, watching Tennison as he finally came to a stop and pulled at the grass in short, quick motions. Marion tried to grab hold of one of the million thoughts racing through her head. "I guess you're here to compete at the show, too, then," she said. _Of course he is; why else would his horse be in the paddock?_

Thankfully, the young man just nodded and smiled. "We're in the King George V Cup. And which class brings you all the way across the pond?"

"I'm in the Queen Elizabeth II Cup, so . . . "

He glanced over at her. "So then, I suppose that makes you Marion Bartlett."

"How did you know?"

"I've heard of the 'young American wonder' who's competing in that class. The other American women jumpers who are here are too old to fit that description. In the Royal International at twenty, eh?"

Marion hoped she could attribute the redness on her face to sudden sunburn. "Yes, that's me. I'm afraid I don't know who you are, though."

"You mean my reputation doesn't precede me?" The young man sighed dramatically and shook his head. "American newspapers." He grinned again—it seemed to be a habit of his, one Marion liked immensely. "Tim Fleming."

"A pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well." Tim looked out at the field, where Tennison had resumed thundering around. "Now, I don't suppose you'd like to meet him as well." At Marion's grin and nod, he let out a sharp whistle. Tennison slowed, pricked his ears, and trotted over.

"Well, hello there, Tennison," Marion said softly, holding out her hand for him to smell. Tennison blew out a breath before jerking his head away and wheeling off again. Marion just laughed.

Tim raised his eyebrows. "Well then. I think Tennison could use a good trail ride to calm down a bit. I don't suppose I could persuade you to go with me?"

Marion smiled. "I'd love to."

()()()()()

They rode for hours through nearby woods with tall, full trees that shaded them from the worst of the July heat. And they talked about everything.

()()()()()

"I grew up Catholic," Tim said as they passed a tiny stone church with a steeple overtaken by ivy.

"Me, too. I haven't been to Mass in ages, though. I miss the experience. The stained glass and the incense and the prayers—it all made me feel like I was in the presence of something—" Marion drew a breath—"something mysterious and somber and beautiful." Just thinking about it now brought a little of that feeling back. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and smiled.

When she opened her eyes, Tim was giving her a wry smile. "I always found it rather dull. I haven't been since I was eight and my parents stopped attending. Politics and that sort of thing, you know. Nothing I understood at the time. I was just glad I didn't have to sit through Mass anymore."

"Oh." Marion batted away disappointment and stared down at Delilah's head, which bobbed in time with her steps as she ambled down the trail. "Well, like I said, I haven't gone in a long time because of shows. Neither has my dad. He took up cattle farming when I was about twelve, and those cows take up a lot of his time."

"So, you've grown up on a cattle farm, eh? Tell me about that."

()()()()()

"I don't care much about politics, to be honest. I only really care when there are issues about animal rights."

"Ah, you're one of them."

Tim's smile was warm, if teasing, but not scornful, so Marion smiled back. "What do you mean?"

"I bet you brought in a lot of strays when you were a kid." He affected a high-pitched voice. "Please, Mum and Dad, please let me keep him!"

She giggled. "Yes, that about sums it up. One time, we had twelve cats, four dogs, and a rabbit." Suddenly she realized the sun had all but disappeared and the sky above the shadowy branches was turning a deep royal purple. And they were at a split in the path. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

Tim nudged Tennison forward, then turned him, looking around. He even directed Tennison off the path and into the brush for a moment. "No, I don't. I don't know how many turns we've taken or where that log was that we jumped earlier, either."

"Okay. Drop Tennison's reins."

"What? Drop his reins?"

"You've never let your horse find the way back for you before?" At Tim's blank stare, Marion sighed and explained, "I'd let Delilah lead the way, but she might take me all the way across the ocean back to Heartland. Besides, Tennison probably knows the way better than she does. You said you've been here for a week already, so he's used to the yard and his stall."

"You have that much faith in my horse? What if he bolts?"

Marion pictured Tennison thundering around the paddock but drove any doubts about his dependability out of her mind. "He won't. He wants to get back to his nice stall and his delicious oats."

Tim let the reins slacken on Tennison's neck. "I'll give him his head, but I'm still holding on. And if he leads us to my family's farm in Gloucestershire, it'll be an adventure, anyway."

Tennison snuffled the ground and then lifted his head, ears pricked. He took a step forward, and then another step.

Holding her breath, Marion nudged Delilah forward, loosening her grip on the reins. Maybe Delilah remembered the stall that had been her home for a day and a half.

For what felt like hours, Tennison steadily picked his way over trails. Aside from a sliver of silver light from the moon, it grew totally dark after about half an hour. The slightest of breezes drifted through the trees, and Marion found that she was actually enjoying herself. She and Tim kept talking, but in low voices to keep from distracting Tennison.

At one point, she glanced over at Tim to find him studying her. The moths in her stomach resumed their fluttering and she quickly looked away, but not before noticing how the moonlight accentuated the perfectly sharp angles of Tim's face.

Finally, they emerged from the woods to the glow of wrought iron lampposts casting triangles of light onto cobblestones and stall blocks. Their relieved laughter echoed across the empty courtyard. "See, I told you he would know the way back."

Tim hopped off of Tennison and grabbed the reins. "You were right. And putting aside almost getting lost in the dark, that was the best ride I've had in a long time."

Before leading Delilah to her stall in one of the back stable blocks, Marion paused. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll certainly be on the lookout for you." Marion didn't have to see Tim's face to know he was smiling. "I know a place around here that serves up the best fish and chips I've ever tasted—even better than my grandmum used to make. I don't suppose you'd like to join me for supper."

Marion felt a grin break out on her face. "I'd love to."

()()()()()

They at together the next night—Marion in the one skirt she'd brought; Tim in jeans and a button-up shirt—and the night after that, and every night, regardless of how late they were finished with training. And at the Royal International Horse Show, they cheered each other on and then celebrated their victories by going out to eat yet again.

That night, like every night, Tim walked Marion back to the cottage she was renting with the other American women jumpers. But that night, as they stood on the porch, he kissed her on the cheek before muttering, "G'night" and walking off, leaving Marion to press her hand to her face and stare after him.

()()()()()

Gripping her suitcase, Marion looked around the bustling airport terminal and blinked to keep her tears at bay. People rushed past with suitcases or sat in chairs looking bored or anxious. The noise level was reminiscent of the sound of the crowds at Hickstead each night before the jumpers rode out into the arena. This section of the airport smelled slightly of fried food and rubber and sweat.

Marion swallowed hard and glanced up at Tim. "Well, I guess this is it."

"Hey, now, what's this?" He stepped forward and cupped her face in his hand. "This isn't goodbye forever," he said with a laugh. "I told you I'd visit for the holidays, and I always keep my promises."

Marion mustered a smile. "I'm so glad you'll get to see Heartland at Christmas. It's beautiful there."

Tim nodded, eyes warm. "I'm sure it is."

"And you'll write to me, right?"

"Just like I promised." Tim grinned. "I may even call you once in a while if I can scrounge up the change." He glanced over Marion's head. "Better get on. Your flight's leaving soon."

She nodded and turned to leave, but something froze her to that spot on the worn carpet of the airport terminal. She hesitated for a fraction of a second and then let go of her suitcase, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed Tim.

When they broke apart, Tim kept his face close to hers. "Well then. I haven't told you yet, but I do believe I've fallen quite in love with you."

Marion grinned up at him, feeling herself blush. "I love you, too."

As much as she hated to let go, something compelled her to glance at her watch. She shot a panicked look at Tim. "I've got to go!" She picked up her suitcase and hurried toward her gate, glancing backward as much as possible while trying not to trip over anybody.

"See you in four months!" Tim yelled, waving. "I'll write soon!"

()()()()()

Even with all the letters they wrote—Dad claimed he'd have to sell an entire cow to pay for the stamps Marion had used—Tim couldn't stay away for four whole months. He showed up for Thanksgiving and stayed with nearby friends for all of December. He brought with him Tennison, who he stabled at Heartland, and a velvet jewelry box, which he kept hidden until he knelt in the snow in front of an alternately laughing and crying Marion at the end of a trail ride on Christmas morning.

They were married a little over six months later, July 2, 1981, on the anniversary of the day Marion had first laid eyes on Tennison and his master and fallen in love with them both. And for the next twelve years, they were blissfully happy.


	2. Part 1: Before, Chapter 2

"Across the sea / The space between / Everything you think you know / The things you keep / And bury deep / Underneath the melting snow / I'll follow." - Audrey Assad

 **Part 1: Before**

 **Chapter 2**

"You disappeared. . . . "

"Do you think I could have gone if I'd stayed to say good-bye? Amy—you, your mom, Lou, you were the three most precious things in the world to me. There's no way that I could have looked at your faces and then turned and walked away."( _Thicker Than Water_ )

* * *

 _December 1993_

The door clicked open, and Dr. Lewis strode in, flipping through papers on a clipboard.

Marion shifted in her chair and glanced over at Tim, but he simply stared out into space, just as he had for the past ten minutes as the doctors processed his latest x-rays and reports. She could understand being lost in thought—she'd thought about everything from whether she should put Pegasus on different feed to how much they could spend on Christmas presents this year—but wasn't he at all interested in what Dr. Lewis had to say?

She felt her mouth tighten but looked at Dr. Lewis as he sank down into the chair across from them. He was tall and pale, with dark hair and a sharp nose and the faintest French accent. He took a breath and hesitated—a habit she found irritating, no matter the number of times she reminded herself that he'd helped Tim so much over the past four months—before saying, "It is too soon to tell still whether you will regain or relearn the ability to walk. You still have not regained any feeling in your legs, correct?"

Tim continued to stare into space, and Marion bit the inside of her lip. Finally, he looked over at Dr. Lewis and gave a slight nod. "That's correct," he said, voice quiet and flat. His eyes lowered to stare at his lap.

Dr. Lewis nodded, his expression unchanging. "We will keep monitoring you. We were able to determine something, however. You once asked me if you would be able to ride again." He kept his gaze on Tim, even though the latter continued to look at his knees. Marion watched the doctor's face. "Even if you are able to walk, I am afraid that will not be possible, at least not at the competitive level."

Her stomach sinking, more from a confirmation of what she'd already known than from surprise, Marion looked over at Tim to see his reaction. He raised his head sharply but said nothing. He just looked at Dr. Lewis, blinking quickly.

The doctor kept talking. "It would be too dangerous. Your body could not stand the strain."

One of Tim's hands curled into a fist, and he swallowed. "I see," was all he said, in the same soft, dull voice that had taken the place of his buoyant tones since August.

Dr. Lewis put a hand on Tim's shoulder. "I am sorry. But remember that you are fortunate to be alive."

Marion nodded and turned to Tim, trying to look into his eyes. Tim just let his gaze slip to the floor.

()()()()()

It was raining as Marion drove home. Through the windshield, she peered up at the pancake-flat gray clouds and wondered absently if it would turn cold enough to snow for Christmas.

Tim was staring out the window. _Are you all right?_ But she couldn't bring herself to ask the question, because she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. Not if that _feeling_ were right.

From the moment he'd woken from anesthesia, his eyes blinking at the bright light above the hospital bed before settling on her, a small but insistent sense of foreboding had taken up residence in Marion's chest, the place where she just _knew_ things.

The feeling had nothing to do with hurried, hushed conferences with doctors out in those sterile hallways; it existed separately from the worry caused by phrases like _extensive therapy_ and _depression_ and _paraplegic for life_.

In the midst of everything she'd had to do during the past four months—trying to keep up with bills, keeping track of medical and equine insurance and figuring out what was covered and what wasn't, taking care of the ponies, phoning Lou every day with updates on Tim, kissing Amy good morning before leaving her with Dad to shuttle back and forth between Pegasus and Tim, reassuring Dad that she really was okay, occasionally remembering to eat and sleep—Marion had mostly managed to ignore the feeling, or at least she'd learned to live with it. But now, ever since Dr. Lewis had walked through that door, it was making its existence known in full force. She felt almost sick.

After drawing a deep breath to try to calm her stomach, Marion let out the first words that came to mind. "Lou's Christmas holiday starts tomorrow. I'm going to pick her up in the morning. Would you come with me?"

Tim's gray eyes flicked over to her for half a second. When he didn't say anything, Marion continued. "It would mean a lot to her. I talked to her yesterday, and she said she can't wait to see you." He still said nothing, so she added, in a careful tone both soft and steely, "It might help make up for the times that you haven't talked to her on the phone."

Slowly, Tim nodded. "All right."

"Good." But she couldn't make herself smile.

They were silent for the next few minutes. The windshield wipers thudded as they beat back the rain, and the tires swooshed through puddles. When they reached the last intersection before the farm, Marion finally spoke. "Dad took Amy Christmas shopping, so we could go grab some lunch. Or, if you want, we could stop by the market and I could buy food to fix for you back at the house. Whatever you want." This time she managed a smile, which quickly disappeared when she saw that Tim was just gazing out the window.

"But you'll have to decide soon because the light's about to change," she added, allowing frustration to seep through her voice.

"I'm tired. I just want to rest."

Marion was about to sigh but realized she felt relieved. "Okay." She went straight through the light, and, for the rest of the ride, concentrated on the sound of the raindrops hitting the windshield.

()()()()()

After getting Tim settled in the living room, Marion made herself a sandwich and headed to the barn. She spent the afternoon mucking out stalls and grooming the horses. Finally, as the sky turned from rainy gray to twilight gray, she headed to Pegasus's stall, walking quietly down the barn aisle.

Pegasus had been dozing near the front of the stall, but the instant she put her hands on the half door, he shot to the back.

Marion sighed, running her eyes over the black scars left over from all his surgeries. She fished her smashed sandwich crusts out of her pockets and held them out to him. Pegasus's nostrils flared, but he stayed at the back of his stall, eyes rolling.

"At least I know how you're feeling," she whispered as his ears flickered and he shifted in the corner. She reached a hand through the rails and dropped the crusts into his bucket. "I just wish I knew how to help you."

At the sound of a car door slamming, she looked toward the house. Dad and Amy had gotten back and, from the number of bags Dad was carrying, their shopping trip had been successful. She headed up the driveway to help them out.

Amy spotted her coming from the barn and ran to meet her as best as she could in her brown winter boots. "Mommy! I saw Santa and I told him what I want for Christmas."

"Really!" Marion swung Amy into her arms and kept walking toward the car. "What did you tell him?"

"A pony." Amy grinned.

"A pony? But you already have a pony!"

"That's what I told her." Dad handed Marion a bulging shopping bag.

"No, Grandpa!" Amy leaned forward in Marion's arms and pushed the bag away.

"Oh! Right." Dad winked at Marion and selected another bag for her to carry. "Wouldn't want to give away the surprise."

When they got to the house, Dad rummaged through the bag Amy hadn't let Marion carry. He pulled out an already wrapped package and handed it to Amy, whose eyes flickered back to Marion. "I have to hide it from Mommy." She grinned at Dad before scurrying upstairs.

Flicking on the lights to illuminate the big kitchen, with its brown marble countertops, exposed beams, and old-fashioned brass fixtures, Marion shook her head and laughed. "I guess the two of you had fun." She reached into one of the bags and unwrapped scented pinecones.

"We sure did." Dad went to the sink and washed his hands. He glanced over his shoulder. "And what about you? Don't tell me you spent the day in that barn." He dried his hands on a checkered towel.

Suddenly the pinecones she'd been settling on the table seemed as heavy as horseshoes. "I asked him if he wanted lunch, but he was tired. So we came back here."

Dad put one of the bags in the closet and shut the door. "Did you try to talk to him?"

Marion raised weary eyes to Dad's face. "He said he wanted to sleep." She refrained from adding that that was all he'd said. "Dr. Lewis told him he'd never be able to jump again."

Dad's eyebrows lifted, and he nodded. "Can't say I'm surprised. How'd he take the news?"

Marion shook her head. "I don't know. He didn't say anything."

"Well, you won't know unless you ask."

 _But I don't_ want _to ask._ Marion bit back the words and instead unwrapped the rest of the pinecones. "What did you want me to fix for dinner?"

"I thought we could go out."

"You sure? You've been out all day."

"Oh! Uh, I told Amy we could go to McDonald's."

Marion breathed a laugh. "I thought you said you'd never bribe your granddaughters."

"I did not! She asked, and, well . . . " Dad cleared his throat. "You ought to see if Tim feels up to going, too."

Marion nodded. "I should check on him, anyway." She put down the pinecones and headed down the hallway.

The living room was dark, but Marion didn't want to risk turning on a light and waking Tim up. She walked over to where he sat, carefully stepping over the open suitcases he'd been living out of since coming home from the hospital the week before. She debated putting the clothes away, but even thinking about carrying the heavy suitcases upstairs made her tired.

From the faint light still coming from the window, she could see he was still sleeping, head slumped over, breathing even and deep. A smile lifted one corner of her mouth even as that sense of dread gnawed at something in her chest.

For a moment, she just watched his chest rise and fall. Then, suddenly, she wished she could shake him awake—shake him awake and demand answers. _Why won't you talk to me? How do you feel about all of this? What's going through your mind?_

She sighed through her nose and crossed her arms. Shaking him awake probably wasn't the best course of action considering his injuries. Besides, he would talk when he was ready.

 _But he always used to be ready to talk._

Pursing her lips, she stepped back over the suitcases and left the room. He needed his rest. She'd leave him a note.

()()()()()

Despite her exhaustion, the evening ended up being an enjoyable blur of bright lights, French fries, and a three-year-old's chatter. Between bites of her cheeseburger, Amy jabbered excitedly about her day out with her grandpa before skittering off to the PlayPlace. Marion and Dad made plans to get a tree that weekend, once Lou was home from school. On the way home, Amy fell asleep, and Marion nearly dozed off as well.

She only jerked awake when Dad stopped the car at the top of the driveway. And then the foreboding came back and slammed her in the chest.

"If you'll carry Amy up to bed, I'll go see how Tim's doing," Marion whispered as they tiptoed through the kitchen. She crept down the hallway to the living room. A thin line of light showed under the door.

"Tim?" She knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she pushed it open.

His wheelchair wasn't in its usual corner between the sofa and the glass doors. He wasn't sitting on the loveseat or lying on the floor. And as Marion ran through the room, she realized the suitcases she'd had to step so carefully over earlier were gone.

She dashed from room to room, heart racing, dread churning in her stomach. She threw doors open and switched on lights, but the rooms on the main level were all empty. And there was no way he could have made it upstairs by himself.

She flew outside and ran through puddles to the barn and smacked the light switch on. The horses snorted or whinnied as she hurried down the aisle, checking each of the stalls. But he wasn't in any of them.

She stood in the barn doorway, gasping for air she couldn't catch despite her efforts. A creak echoed across the yard, and she looked up at the house to see Dad standing at the front door. "Marion, what are you doing?"

Her legs propelled her toward the house. She wrapped her arms around herself even as she began to shiver. "I can't find him, Dad."

Dad's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Tim's not in the house or the barn," she said, stumbling up the porch steps.

He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her into the house. "Now, he can't be far. You sit there while I make some phone calls."

Still shaking, Marion sat at the kitchen table. She watched numbly while Dad flipped through the phone book. "Now, I know it might not be easy for you to think clearly right now, but I need names."

"Names?"

"Of Tim's friends or family members. He couldn't have left by himself. Somebody had to drive him."

Marion rattled off some names. "Their numbers are in the address book." She tucked her hands between her knees to try to stop the shaking. "Is Amy asleep?"

"Out like a light." Dad took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders before punching in the first number. She watched with wide eyes and prayed for the first time in a while.

"Hello, Michael? This is Jack Bartlett. I'm Tim Fleming's father-in-law."

()()()()()

Marion sat at the table while Dad made six different phone calls. She was too tired to pay attention to the conversations, but the same facts circled around her head, keeping her from drifting off. _He's gone. He waited until we were all out of the house, and he left._

Shaking his head, Dad hung up the phone. "Well, either somebody lied to me, or nobody knows where Tim is. Can you think of anybody else I could try?"

At some point, Marion had stopped shivering, but she'd gotten to the point where exhaustion rendered her incapable of rational thought. Her brain felt fuzzy. She shook her head. "I can't right now," she whispered hoarsely. Tears pricked her eyes.

Dad helped her up, pulling his coat back over her shoulders when it slipped off. "Go to bed, honey. We'll try again tomorrow."

Even in her weariness, Marion could see the frustration in Dad's strained eyes and tight jaw. "He'll come back, Dad. I know he will."

Dad wrapped his arms around her and, resting his chin on top of her head, sighed. "I sure hope so."


	3. Part 1: Before, Chapter 3

"Across the sea / The space between / Everything you think you know / The things you keep / And bury deep / Underneath the melting snow / I'll follow." – Audrey Assad

 **Part 1: Before**

 **Chapter 3**

 _June 2002_

Marion didn't even realize she was nodding off along with Jake as she ran her fingers in light circles on his face. But when she heard footsteps echoing through the barn, her head jerked up and her eyes flew open.

"Marion?"

She poked her head over the door. "Down here, Dad."

Dad walked over, the creases between his eyebrows becoming more obvious the closer he got. "It's almost 11. Aren't you done yet, honey?"

"Just about," Marion said brightly, blinking quickly.

"Just about? Marion, you've got to be starving. Not to mention exhausted." Dad frowned and crossed his arms across his plaid shirt. "What else were you gonna do?"

"Well, I was hoping to do at least ten more minutes with Jake, and then—" A huge yawn escaped her just as her stomach growled. Dad's scowl deepened. "Then I'll come and eat something."

"Jake will be just fine if you wait 'til morning. You, on the other hand . . . " Dad opened the stall door. "Come on."

Marion sighed, patted Jake one more time, and followed Dad out of the barn and into the darkness. The humid June air didn't help her wake up; instead, it felt like a warm, if damp, blanket wrapping itself around her entire body.

"Don't fall asleep on your feet, now. We're almost at the house." Marion could hear the smile in Dad's voice, but even her bleary eyes could see the concern on his face.

In the kitchen, she sank down into a chair while Dad dug leftovers out of the fridge. He set a plate of chicken and pasta salad in front of her, and she gave him a grateful smile before digging in. It was only when the food hit her stomach that she realized she'd been hungry for hours.

"Now, what do you want to drink? And don't tell me iced tea or coffee, because I am not giving you caffeine so you can go back out to that barn."

"Just water. Thanks, Dad," Marion said, smiling.

He set a glass of ice water on the table and took the chair across from her, folding his arms and leaning back.

Marion swallowed some chicken and pursed her lips. "What?"

"You seem to have a lot on your plate lately."

"Well, business is picking up, and that's a good thing."

"I know it is. But it seems like there aren't enough hours in the day for you—or at night, so you can actually get some decent sleep."

I'm fine, Dad; I can handle it. You know I'm always up for a challenge."

"I know you are. But you can't tell me you weren't falling asleep there in the barn."

Marion sighed through her nose. "I was. But I don't know what to do about it. I can't start turning horses away when they really need my help." She stabbed twisty noodles with her fork.

Dad chuckled. "I know you can't, and I'm not going to say you ought to do that because you'd have my head. But I think you ought to look for someone to help you. Especially since I'm gonna be gone for a week."

Marion briefly narrowed her stinging eyes. _Right, he's going to Glen and Sylvia's tomorrow. Something with the barn_. She rested her chin in her hand. "It would have to be somebody who understands my vision. Somebody who wants to help horses the way that I do." She looked at Dad and smirked. "Somebody who doesn't think I'm completely crazy."

"Scott doesn't think you're crazy. Maybe you ought to start with him."

Marion nodded and, after swallowing the last of her food, rose from the table. Dad lifted his hand for her plate, and she bent down to kiss his cheek and give him the empty plate. "Thanks, Dad. I'll talk to Scott in the morning."

()()()()()

 _Would Tim have thought I was crazy?_

Sitting on the edge of her bed, one hand ready to draw the covers back, Marion paused and pursed her lips. She leaned forward and opened the drawer of her nightstand. Her hand reached for the back of the drawer and froze over the envelope she knew was there.

In one swift motion, she withdrew her hand, shut the drawer, and slipped under her blanket. _Why do I still care what he thinks of me? He hasn't written for two years._

Marion's lips tightened, and she shook her head at herself. Just a moment of insecurity, probably because she was overly tired. Dad was right: some sleep—and some help—would do her good.

()()()()()

When Marion walked into the vet clinic around ten the next morning, Scott was sitting at the front desk, bent over a computer keyboard, forehead resting in his hand. He slouched further in his chair, scrunched his fingers through the front of his blonde hair, and sighed.

"I knew there was a reason I brought an extra coffee." Marion made her smile bright even as she felt concern and alarm knot themselves in her stomach.

Scott's words were joking, but his smile and tone were flat. "Because it's part of our deal: you bring me coffee so I don't have to drink the lukewarm stuff from the office, and I persuade people to send their horses to you."

"Well, yes, but today you look like you need it." She rested her arms on the counter and narrowed her eyes. "Long night?"

Scott took the extra Styrofoam cup. "Jenna broke up with me." He sipped the coffee. "I'll be fine; it's just…" He shrugged and drank more coffee.

Marion pursed her lips and felt disgust flare inside as she pictured the leggy blonde intern who'd hung onto Scott since winter. "I told you she wasn't good enough for you. She's certainly not worth drinking yourself silly over."

"I'm _not_ hung over. She kept me up all night fighting, and then she broke up with me around 2 in the morning and I had to be here at 6. I'm just tired, _Mom_."

"I'm too young to be your mother." Marion faked a scowl, then let it soften and offered Scott a sympathetic smile. "I am sorry."

"I'll get over it in a couple of days," Scott said, shrugging. "Why'd you come by?"

Marion rested one hand in the crook of her other arm before drinking her coffee. "I'm considering hiring some help, and I hoped you'd have some suggestions about somebody I could hire."

Scott's eyes narrowed, then lit up with a familiar glint. Marion felt the knot in her stomach ease; he really would be okay in a few days. "Yeah, I do know of somebody. I'll send him your way this afternoon."

"That sounds great. Thanks." Marion grinned. "I'll let you get to work." She stepped away from the counter, then stepped back. "You know, Lou's visited almost every year since we moved here, but you've never met her. I should introduce the two of you the next time she visits."

Scott grinned wryly. "Didn't she turn twenty a couple months ago? That's a little young for me."

"It was last month. But all right, if you say so." Marion walked toward the door, shooting a smirk over her shoulder. Scott just shook his head.

()()()()()

 _What was I thinking?_ Marion shook her head at herself as she waited to turn at the intersection after the clinic. _Lou wouldn't go for somebody like Scott. She's polished and sharp—not that Scott's stupid; he's just a different kind of smart, and I can't imagine Lou riding in his Jeep. . . ._

" _I thought you rode English, not Western."_

" _I do!" Laughter at seeing the wide-brimmed suede hat on his tightly curled brown hair. "I just like the hat."_

" _What do you think the judges would do if I rode into the ring wearing this? I'd wear it over my helmet, of course."_

" _I think they'd disqualify you. Could I have my hat back now?"_

A horn blared and Marion blinked. The traffic arrow was green—or possibly had been green for at least a few seconds. She sighed through her nose and made a left onto Sycamore Street.

()()()()()

Marion clipped the lead rope onto Shady's worn blue halter and turned to Amy. "I have to do some work with Shady, so could you watch and let me know when he gets here?"

Amy nodded over Pegasus's back and kept brushing his gray coat. "So it's a guy?"

Marion laughed. "You know, I don't even know. I didn't ask, and Scott didn't tell me."

Amy smirked. "So how am I supposed to tell if it's the person we're looking for?" Marion smirked back and ruffled Amy's hair before she could duck. "Hey!"

"Smart aleck. Nobody else is scheduled to come by this afternoon, so just watch, and when somebody shows up, ask what they're here for and then come and get me."

"I know, I know." Amy dropped the curry comb into her grooming bucket and pulled out a body brush.

"All right. I'll be in the training ring. I think Shady's ready for the saddle today."

"'Kay."

Smiling to herself, Marion led Shady out of the front stable block. She replayed the tone Amy had used when she asked if the person Scott had recommended was a guy. Amy had sounded neither disgusted nor hopeful, just curious. Amy had never had a "boys are icky" stage, but she hadn't followed Soraya down the boy-crazy trail, either. Whenever people asked about Matt, Amy always said he was just a friend, and Marion believed her.

When she reached the training ring, Marion opened the gate, being careful not to knock over the saddle balancing on the top rail, and turned her attention to Shady. "You know the drill, boy," she said, rubbing the whorl of white beneath Shady's black forelock before unclipping his lead rope. He looked at her as if he knew what was coming next— _He_ should _know. We've only gone through this every day for the past week._

Marion grinned. The instant she raised her arms, Shady wheeled away. _And here we go again._

()()()()()

"Soraya won't stop talking about Jeremy, Pegasus." Amy ran the body brush over his snowy coat. He glanced back at her. "It's not Alex anymore. I have trouble keeping track, too." She sighed and, standing on her tiptoes, swept the brush over Pegasus's back. "I miss talking about other stuff. I don't want to hear about Jeremy's hair—or his eyes—or the way he chews on his pencil. That's not cute. It's gross."

Pegasus snorted and stamped a hoof, and Amy realized with each declaration, she'd been brushing him harder and harder. She dropped the brush and threw her arms around his neck. "I'm so sorry, boy." Burying her face in his neck, she took a deep breath. "Sixth grade is hard. I'm glad it's almost summer. Then I can go on rides all day if I want to." She turned her face to wrinkle her nose at Pegasus. "Except if I invite Soraya, she's just going to talk about boys."

"Hello?"

Amy let go of Pegasus and looked over the stall door. A teenage boy, maybe a few years older than she was, stood hesitantly in the entrance to the barn.

"Hi." Amy let herself out of the stall and walked toward him. His t-shirt and jeans hung on his tall, thin frame, though something told her he wasn't trying to imitate that weird baggy style some of the boys—including Jeremy—at her school wore. His brown hair flopped over his green eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"Is Mrs. Fleming around?" He put his hands into his pockets. His eyes were wide— _Is he nervous?_ Amy wondered—but a corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. "I checked up at the house, but nobody answered the door."

"She's here. Did Scott send you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Cool." _Soraya can never come over ever again._ "Mom's been waiting for you. She's back here." She led the way out of the barn, the boy quietly walking beside her. "I'm Amy."

"I'm Ty." That brief half-smile appeared on his face again, and Amy decided she liked him. _Not like Soraya likes Jeremy. He just seems . . . nice. Shy, but nice._

"I don't think I've ever seen you before. Do you go to Jefferson Middle School?"

"No. I just moved here. I'll start at Jefferson High in the fall." He fell silent again, and out of the corner of her eye, Amy watched as he looked around the yard, seeming to take everything in.

 _Did he hear me talking to Pegasus?_ Amy felt herself blush at the thought. She didn't talk to Pegasus when _anybody_ else was around—not Grandpa, not Mom, and definitely not strangers, even nice ones.

Her embarrassment was forgotten when she saw what Mom was doing in the training ring. She stopped, and Ty stopped next to her. "Have you ever heard of join-up?"

Ty shook his head.

"Watch," she said, shooting him a grin.

Mom and Shady were still in the early stages of join-up. Keeping her shoulders square to his, Mom was driving him on, taking steps forward and back to make him slow down and speed up.

"What are they doing?"

"Just watch!" Amy whispered excitedly.

At that instant, Shady lowered his neck and began chewing at the air. All at once, Mom dropped her arms and turned away from him. He didn't even hesitate before walking toward her and nudging the back of her head. Amy could hear Mom murmuring to him. "Good boy."

When Mom turned to grab the bridle from the rail, Shady lipped the top of her hair. Mom laughed, took off his halter, slid the bridle over his ears, and eased the bit into his mouth. "There you go." She went for the saddle blanket next, easing it onto his back and letting it rest there for a moment.

Amy raised a fist to her mouth in glee when Mom reached for the saddle. She let Shady sniff the saddle first. For a second, he laid his ears back and bobbed his head. "It's all right."

"Why's she taking so long to tack that horse up?"

Amy glanced to her left. She'd been so mesmerized by what Mom was doing that she'd forgotten Ty was even there. "His name's Shady. This is only his second time wearing a bridle. And he's never worn a saddle before."

"Oh." He stepped forward a bit and, crossing his arms, squinted.

Amy turned her attention back to the training ring just as Mom laid the saddle on Shady's back. He glanced back at it, jangling the bridle, and shuffled his hooves. "That's it. There's a good boy. There we go." She bent and slowly pulled the girth around to the other side before carefully tightening it. Then she started walking away.

Amy felt her grin widen as Shady followed Mom around the pen. He stepped carefully at first, getting used to the weird weight on his back, but when Mom broke into a run, Shady followed at a trot. Mom laughed. "Good boy. Now, are you going to let me sit on you?"

Amy gasped a little. Mom didn't normally move that quickly. But she knew what she was doing, and Amy couldn't wait to see the result.

First, Mom just leaned over the saddle, putting more and more of her weight on Shady's back. He flicked his tail once but otherwise stood quietly. Then she put one foot into the stirrup and eased herself over, settling lightly into the saddle. Shady snorted and shifted his weight once, but Mom stroked his neck in those light circles Amy saw her use a lot.

When Mom finally slid out of the saddle, Amy looked over at Ty, still grinning. He looked back at her, eyes wider than they'd been earlier. "Wow."

"I know! Come on. Now you can meet her." Amy jogged over to the training ring. "That was awesome, Mom."

One hand still on Shady's neck, Mom looked up and gave her a huge smile. "He did such a good job." Her blue eyes lit on Ty. "Hi there."

"This is Ty. He said he's here to see you."

"I think he can introduce himself, Amy." Mom's eyes glinted teasingly. She offered a hand to Ty through the railing, and he stepped forward and shook it with a nod. "I'm Marion. Nice to meet you. I guess you're interested in working here?"

Ty nodded again. "I'd like to. It's a nice place."

Amy glanced over at him and smiled. Not everybody thought Heartland was a nice place.

"Well, thank you, Ty." Mom's eyes crinkled at the corners, and Amy could tell she liked Ty, too. "Why don't you help me untack Shady, and we can talk?" She looked over at Amy. "Amy, don't you have homework?"

"But—" She bit back the words, figuring complaining was an even worse first impression than talking to a horse. "Yes. I'll go finish." She turned toward the house but looked over her shoulder. "See you later, Ty."

He gave another half-smile. "See you."

()()()()()

 _Scott sent me a middle schooler._ With that amusement plus delight at the successful join-up with Shady, Marion could barely keep from laughing. Actually, she felt like spinning around and clapping her hands and laughing, but she settled for picturing herself doing just that and managed to simply smile at Ty and nod at the gate. "Come on in."

Ty stepped into the ring and closed the gate easily behind him, rocking it back and forth once to make sure he'd closed it. Marion grinned mentally. _At least he won't be letting any of the horses out of the round pen._

Shady bobbed his head and stretched toward Ty. Ty held out a hand, palm up, for Shady to sniff.

"Is he okay with me touching his face? I mean, he seems pretty friendly, but Scott told me you work with abused horses, so . . . " Ty shrugged.

"Absolutely. Shady here wasn't a rescue; he's here to be backed." Marion scratched Shady's face herself. "He's come along way. Haven't you, boy?" She stepped back and watched Ty gently rub Shady's forehead. "Can you untack him for me?"

Ty nodded. Marion watched, brow furrowed slightly, as he narrowed his eyes and studied the bridle for a moment. But there was nothing unsure about his hesitation. A second later, he stepped forward and moved the reins to Shady's neck. With quick but careful fingers, he undid the throat latch and the nose band. When Shady stamped a hoof and swished his tail, Ty just ignored him and eased the bridle over his ears. Shady bobbed his head, but Ty held onto the bridle and waited until the horse was done.

 _He's a natural_. Crossing her arms, Marion nodded to herself.

Ty put the bridle over his shoulder, slid on the halter, and skimmed his eyes over the saddle. He walked over to Shady's left side and unbuckled and lowered the girth. As Shady craned his neck to watch, Ty patted the horse's shoulder.

Marion briefly wondered if the saddle weighed more than Ty— _Heck, some of them weigh more than_ I _do_ —but he hefted it off of Shady's back with relative ease. She gave him a smile. "Good job. I'll take those, and you can lead him to the barn."

Ty nodded and, after handing her the tack, stepped toward the gate, reaching for the latch.

"I appreciate the gesture, but you might want to grab the lead rope first." Marion smiled reassuringly.

"Right."

Marion saw his mouth tighten as he stepped back and reached for Shady's lead rope, but she sensed he wasn't frustrated with being corrected; he was frustrated with himself. "It's not a big deal. Trust me, you did not just disqualify yourself."

Ty breathed a laugh. "Okay."

He followed her to the barn, Marion watching him out of the corner of her eye. He didn't pull Shady along; he simply walked beside the horse, though he kept a firm grip on the lead rope—to prove to himself, she decided, that he wouldn't let the horse go, not out of fear that Shady would bolt.

"It seems like you've been around horses quite a bit."

Ty shrugged. "Not since I was little. But I know a lot about them."

Marion raised her eyebrows. "Well, it shows. You're very good around Shady."

"Thanks. Do you want me to brush him off?"

"That's exactly what I was going to have you do next. I'll go put the saddle and bridle away and get you a grooming kit." She started to head toward the tack room, then turned around. "Actually, why don't you put Shady in his stall and come with me. That way I can show you where everything is."

On the way to the tack room, Marion again watched Ty out of her peripheral vision. He didn't say anything, not that she expected him to, but he looked around, left to right and back again, drinking everything in. She sensed he didn't go with his gut, like she did and like Amy was beginning to, but rather took in as many details as he could and pieced them together to figure out what to do.

"So." After placing the saddle on a rack, she put her hands on her hips and looked around. "Well. The grooming kits are usually in here, though sometimes they end up in the feed room. Or in the barn aisles." She shrugged and waved a hand toward the little closet where they stored the blankets. "Blankets generally end up in there. And lead ropes. Halters should stay on the stall doors. The most important thing is for the saddles to go on the racks so that they stay sturdy."

Ty nodded. "So, aside from the saddles, it doesn't really matter where things go, as long as we can find them?"

"Basically." Marion fought a grin. "Well, the manure goes in the muck heap."

Ty ducked his head and smiled sheepishly. "Right."

"I don't think I need to show you where that is. Out the door and follow your nose." She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Feed and water buckets should go in the feed room." She pointed to a grooming kit leaning against the wall atop a stack of blankets. "We can take that one for Shady. I think Dad cleaned the curry comb."

Ty took the grooming kit from her and looked at it for a moment, scowling slightly. Then he nodded and followed her back to Shady's stall.

Marion rested her arms on the stall door as Ty brushed Shady off exactly the right way—circular motions, varying pressure, avoiding Shady's head. "For someone who hasn't been around horses for years, you sure do know how to untack and groom a horse."

"I read a lot about them. I can tack up horses and muck out stalls, too. I can show you if you want."

"No, that's all right," Marion said with a smile. "Let's see your riding next."

Ty blinked once and nodded, but not before Marion glimpsed the first hint of uncertainty on his face. "Do you know how?"

"No. Lessons are expensive." He shifted and glanced at the ground. "Plus my dad says horseback riding is kind of girly."

Marion raised her eyebrows, both at the statement itself and at the sudden bit of information. "'Girly'? Riding is not just for girls. My husband was one of the greatest show jumpers in the world."

Ty gave her a half-smile. "I didn't say I agreed with my dad." Marion caught the disappointment that flickered in his eyes. "But you probably need somebody who can ride."

She shook her head before putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling. "As far as I'm concerned, you're perfect for this job. I'll teach you how to ride."

Ty blinked. "Thank you. I—I'll find a way to pay you, or you can take it from my pay or something."

Marion looked at him keenly _._ "Consider it a bonus."

Now he just stared. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

Something beeped. Ty glanced first at Shady, who just flicked an ear, and then down at his watch. "I'll be sure to turn that off from now on so I don't scare one of the horses. I have to go, but I'll be back tomorrow. Is nine okay? I can stay all day."

"Fantastic. We'll work on your riding first thing."

"Okay." He flashed her a grin that was equal parts excitement and relief. "Thanks again."

As he loped down the driveway, Marion watched, positive she'd made the right decision for Heartland—and for Ty.

()()()()()

Early the next morning, Marion burst into the clinic, extra coffee in hand. "What did you think you were doing, sending me an eighth grader?" She felt her lips twitching but managed to hold back a grin.

Scott looked up from filing papers. "Ty finished eighth grade, so technically he's a rising ninth grader," he said, straight-faced.

Marion sighed through her nose and pursed her lips. "He's not a foal that you can just send my way for help."

"I know," Scott said, shutting the filing cabinet and sitting in the desk chair. "But did you like him?"

Marion faked a scowl. "Yes." She grinned. "I hired him."

"I'm glad. He seemed like he could use some help. He came around last week asking if we had any jobs available. Maybe he's trying to get a head start on finding a summer job."

Marion shook her head. "He's starting today." _And something tells me he needs more than a job for the summer._

"Oh! Hmm." Scott spun slightly to the right in the desk chair, then caught himself. "Maybe he's only working weekends til school ends?"

"I'm not sure, actually." Marion grinned sheepishly. "I didn't exactly work out a schedule with him yesterday."

Scott snorted a laugh.

Marion pointed at him. "Hey, you're the one who sent me a kid who can't ride."

Scott smirked. "You already said you'd teach him for free, didn't you?"

Marion actually scowled—at the clock, not at Scott—as she set the extra coffee on the counter. "I have to run. Otherwise I'll be late to give him his first lesson."

()()()()()

When Marion got back to Heartland, a black and silver bike with rusty patches already lay in the leggy grass by the front pasture. As she headed straight for the barn, she had the fleeting thought that that patch of grass was Ty's assigned parking spot. And that reminded her— _Talk about an actual schedule today. Oh, and pay._ She grimaced. _Which means digging out the checkbook so I can see how much money we have._ She thought she'd left her checkbook in the den. Or maybe it was in the glove compartment in the truck. Maybe Dad knew where it was.

When she heard two voices coming from the barn, she stopped and peeked around the corner. Amy and Ty stood on opposite sides of Shady, a grooming kit at each of their feet. Marion supposed that was one way to groom a horse in half the time.

"How'd you know how to brush him like that if you've never been around horses before?"

 _He's been around horses before—a long time ago._ But Marion noticed Ty didn't bother to correct Amy. "I've read a lot about them," he said, sweeping the brush in long strokes across Shady's back. "Plus it just makes sense, if you think about it."

Amy paused and pursed one side of her mouth. Finally, she said, "I don't get it, but okay."

Ty breathed a laugh, and they both went back to brushing Shady.

"I'm glad you like horses, though," Amy said.

"Yeah, I do." A corner of his mouth quirked up as Ty traded his hard brush for a soft one.

"Mom says you have to love what you do." Amy's remark kept the half-smile on Ty's face. "That's why I want to be a show jumper."

"Like your dad?"

"No. Like my mom." Amy's voice reminded Marion of cracking ice. Even peering around the doorway, she could see Amy's fingers clench around the brush. Her strokes became harder and faster.

Marion leaned against the outside barn wall and stared at her scuffed, dusty boots, trying to process Amy's flash of anger. Had she been so focused on her own feelings about Tim that she'd never even considered he'd also hurt Amy, as young as she'd been when he'd left?

When she looked back around the corner, Ty was looking at Amy—taking in information, Marion knew, before deciding on what to say next. "I didn't know your mom was a show jumper too."

 _Smart kid._

Amy just nodded and brushed the same spot over and over. Finally, she let out a breath and looked over Shady's back. "Sorry."

Ty shrugged. "It's okay."

Amy took a breath—the kind Marion knew would precede a bunch of information tumbling out. "My dad had a bad accident in a jumping competition, and he could never ride again, so he left us, and I haven't seen him since I was three." Her shoulders slumped, and the grooming brush hung limply from her fingers. She dropped the brush and wrapped her arms around Shady's neck, long brown hair hiding her face.

"Hey, I'm sorry." Ty gnawed on a corner of his lip and watched her, but for the first time, he looked completely unsure of what to do.

Marion was unsure herself, but she stepped into the doorway. "Good morning!" she said brightly.

Amy jerked her face up from Shady's neck and pasted on a smile, and Ty looked up with guilt in the upturned corner of his mouth.

Marion smiled reassuringly at him. "Well, I'm ready to teach if you're ready to learn. Go get a saddle and bridle, and I'll meet you in the round pen with Pegasus."

The smile on Amy's face turned genuine as she looked excitedly at Ty. "Pegasus is awesome. He'll practically teach you to ride himself."

Marion laughed. "If that were true, then I'd stay and help you with the chores while Pegasus gave Ty his lesson. But, as it is, I'm going to need you to take care of the grooming yourself."

"'Kay." Amy tossed brushes into the grooming kits while Ty led Shady to his stall.

Marion let herself into Pegasus's stall and haltered him. "Actually, you know what? Why don't you call Soraya and see if she wants to come over and help?"

"Um." Amy's eyes flickered to Ty, who was heading to the tack room. "I think Soraya's busy today. And anyway, I like taking care of the horses."

Standing next to Pegasus, Marion watched Amy as she opened the stall to Jake's door and clipped on his head rope. Everything in her wanted to ask what was going on—with Soraya, with that sudden outburst about Tim—but she knew she had about five thousand things to do. _Including teaching Ty to ride before Dad gets back._ She sighed lightly as Pegasus followed her, hooves clopping, down the aisle.

()()()()()

Marion shuffled into the kitchen, clenching her eyes against the headache that squeezed her skull and the dazzling sunlight that only made the headache worse. She managed to make it to the table, where she sank into a chair facing away from the big window, rested her elbows on the wood, and pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

 _That was creamer that I dumped into my coffee last night, right?_ The coffee she'd downed at 9:30 at night because she'd let Ty's lesson go on for two hours—they'd only stopped when he'd quietly pointed out that Amy had probably finished brushing the horses by then and they should probably help her—and because then she'd remembered she had to go to town to buy feed, and then a client had shown up, and because, as a result, it had taken until 11:00 at night to finish the chores and work with the horses.

Then, when she'd finally gone to bed, her thoughts and emotions had decided to have a wrestling match about Tim and Amy—and Lou, for good measure—until 3:00 in the morning, and her skull must have gotten punched in the process because she'd woken up with a throbbing pain between her temples.

Marion kept her eyes closed and sighed. She hadn't come to any sort of conclusion about _anything_ last night— _This morning_ —but she didn't have time to go over any of it now. When was Ty supposed to get here?

 _The schedule_. He'd written down the hours he could work—she'd told him, with a laugh at herself, that she would completely forget otherwise—but she had no idea where that piece of paper was now.

 _Tim would have known where it was._

She made a little growling noise in the back of her throat. _That's ridiculous_ — _Not ridiculous to think he would've known where it is; he always knew where everything was_ — _Except the way back to the yard the first night we met_ — _Tennison had to do that—Why on earth am I thinking about that now?_

The front screen door squeaked open. "Hello?"

She jerked her head up from where it rested in her fingertips. "Ty! Hi! What time is it?" She glanced at the clock on the stove and answered her own question. "Nine o'clock! I can't believe it's nine o'clock! I need to wake Amy up." She leaped up from the table, but the movement caused a flash of pain right between her eyes. With a groan, she fell back into her chair and closed her eyes.

The floor creaked tentatively as Ty stepped into the kitchen. "You okay?"

"Oh, I'll be fine. It's just a headache. I'll take some aspirin and I'll be fine." She paused and buried her face in her hands. "It would help if I could actually stand up and get the aspirin." _Isn't darkness supposed to help headaches go away?_

"I'll get it. Where's the medicine cabinet?"

"We don't have one. It should be in the pantry. Or maybe in one of the bathroom cabinets." Marion heard Ty open the pantry door and begin moving boxes, bottles, and jars. After several moments of listening to boxes being shuffled around and doors opening and closing, she briefly lifted her head from her hands. "It could also be in the barn or the glove compartment in the truck."

Ty huffed a laugh and, after shutting a cabinet door, placed the bottle of aspirin on the table with a rattle of pills.

Marion shook out two tablets and swallowed them dry. "Ugh. Thank you."

Ty looked at her thoughtfully. "I also found tea. I could make you some, if you want."

Marion would've raised her eyebrows if the action wouldn't have brought the pain, which was somewhere around a seven now, back up to a ten. "Sure." She watched as he filled the teakettle, flicked on the burner, and, rather than trying to find a mug somewhere, washed the coffee cup she must have left on the counter last night. _These are just things that he does all the time, aren't they?_

He put a teabag into the mug. "What do you like in it?"

"Milk and sugar. I actually know where those are! The milk is in the fridge, and the sugar is in that big blue container."

Ty breathed another laugh. "You mean the one that says 'Sugar' on the outside?"

"The very one."

Ty opened the container and spooned sugar into the cup, then grabbed the milk from the fridge and poured a little over the sugar. Steam billowed from the spout of the teakettle as he poured the hot water.

"Well, that's different," Marion said, smiling.

"Oh. That's how my mom likes hers. It always turns out fine."

Marion accepted the teacup and grinned at him. "It smells delicious." She watched tendrils of steam float from the creamy brown liquid before taking a sip. _I know nothing about this kid other than that he's good with horses and makes tea like a pro._ She drank more tea and pursed her lips. _And that his dad thinks that horses are for girls._ "So. Your mom likes backwards tea. What's the rest of your family like?"

A look that reminded Marion of blinds falling over a window flitted across Ty's face. "My dad's a truck driver. My mom stays at home. My brother is nine." He looked at her, shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly.

 _Okay, not his favorite topic of conversation._ Marion nodded. "Gotcha. Well, I'll be out in a minute for your lesson if you want to meet me in the round pen. I just have to get Amy up."

Ty's shoulders relaxed. "She's already up. She was feeding the horses when I got here." He hesitated in the kitchen doorway. "Hey, maybe we should wait until this afternoon for my lesson. Amy told me you were up really late last night. I'm sorry."

Marion waved him off. "Don't worry about it. I need to keep better track of time." She snorted. "Actually, maybe I should just pay you to keep track of time for me. But yes, I suppose we should get the chores done first."

With a nod and a half smile, Ty disappeared out the door.

Lips pursed, Marion stood and walked to the window over the kitchen sink. Resting one hand in the crook of her other arm, she raised her cup of tea to her lips but let it fall away. More than Ty's clipped description of his family, that ghost of a look on his face and that fraction of tension in his shoulders stuck in her mind.

She shook her head. _Later._ Pushing away a mental picture of a refrigerator covered in too many magnets holding too many notes with too many things written on them, she swallowed the last of the tea, put her cup in the sink, and headed outside.

()()()()()

Marion was wrist-deep in ground beef late that afternoon when the phone rang. "Amy?" she called, running her eyes down the list of ingredients to make sure she'd added the right seasonings. They'd finished with the horses surprisingly early— _This time management thing works sometimes_ , she thought—and she'd given Ty his lesson by 2:30, so she'd decided to try cooking actual food for dinner. "Amy, would you get that?"

Amy skidded in from the den, nearly slipped on the wood floor, and grabbed the handset. "Hello? Hey, Lou!" Phone pressed to her ear, she walked from the counter to the glass door. "Yeah, Mom's right here."

"Tell her I'll be right there!" With her right elbow, Marion turned on the hot water and pumped soap onto her left hand. She rubbed her hands together for almost the right amount of time and rinsed them off in scalding water to make up for it. After drying her hands on her jeans, she reached for the phone.

"Hi, stranger!" She wedged the phone between her ear and her shoulder, opened the oven door, and slid the meatloaf into the oven.

"Hello, Mom. Is Amy still around? I wanted to talk to you about an idea I have for her birthday."

Marion looked around to see Amy back in the den, sitting with her sock-feet propped up on the coffee table. "Give me one second." She began sliding the door to the den closed. At Amy's curious look she stuck her head through the door, mouthed, "Birthday presents," wiggled her eyebrows, and grinned. Amy grinned back and turned the TV up just as the door shut.

"Okay, she can't hear us."

"Perfect. Now, what do you think of a karaoke machine? I was out shopping over the weekend, and the toy store at the mall has them on sale."

Marion tried—she really tried—not to laugh, but it came out anyway, in a sort of muffled bark-snort-cough, through the hand she'd clapped over her mouth. "Um." Lou sighed, and Marion made herself swallow the next laugh. "I don't . . . I know that a lot of girls, uh, really want one of them, but . . . " _The idea of Amy holding a microphone and singing along with a machine that looks like a gray, rectangular R2D2 is both absurd and hilarious._

"Really, Mom, I was simply trying to think of something besides one of those Breyer horse sets. She'll be twelve, after all—practically a teenager."

Marion pulled a box of instant mashed potatoes out of the pantry. "Well, I collected them until I was sixteen, and if Amy follows in my footsteps, you'll have the next four birthdays and Christmases taken care of!"

Lou was silent. _Too much._ "What if you get her the Breyer set and a dress, too? She outgrew the one you got her last year." As Marion poured milk into a saucepan, she decided it was neither necessary nor wise to mention that Amy had only worn it when Lou had come to visit.

"What color would she like?" Lou's tone was entirely diplomatic and polite and distant. "Or shall I look for one similar to the other one?"

Marion pictured teal sequins and purple beads and said quickly, "Gray. She likes gray." She dumped the mashed potato flakes into the boiling milk and stirred.

"Really. Well. There may be a smidge of practicality in her after all." Marion could hear the wry smile in Lou's voice. "Gray it is, then."

"And the Breyer horse set. The new one, with foals." She turned off the burner and moved the pot, which now contained fluffy mashed potatoes. Then she realized the meatloaf had another fifty minutes to cook. She reined in a sigh and noticed for the first time a small square of annoyance burning somewhere behind her ribs.

"Yes, of course. Now, how is everything there?"

"Well, your grandpa's at Glen and Sylvia's helping them with . . . something around the farm." Marion began setting canned vegetables on the table, in search of green beans. "And we got a new stable hand. He's just a little older than Amy, but he's great with the horses."

"How much older than Amy?"

Marion blinked at the sharpness in Lou's tone. "Well, Scott said he'd just finished middle school, so . . . "

"So he's thirteen or fourteen, which means that he's underage, which means that there are child labor laws about how often and when he can work. Have you looked at these laws? Of course you haven't."

Marion felt her irritation pulse. "Lou. That was uncalled for. I've been really busy this week." She found the can of green beans, dropped it on the counter next to the pan of cooling mashed potatoes, and began throwing the other cans back into the pantry.

"I'm sorry. Really. Now, I'll search for these laws and send you a link to them. Check your e-mail in about ten minutes."

"Thank you." She rummaged in a few kitchen drawers for the can opener before finding it on top of the fridge instead. "So. Any plans for the summer?"

"I'm taking two summer classes, so I'll be spending most of my time studying." She laughed. "I can have fun when I graduate."

Marion knew better than to ask if Lou could take a break from that studying to visit. "Of course. I know you'll do well. It was good talking to you, sweetie, but I have to finish cooking."

"Cooking? You mean Grandpa's gone and you're not ordering pizza?"

Marion couldn't tell if Lou's tone was incredulous or scornful or both, but the irritation in her chest flared to full-grown exasperation. She managed a short laugh and dumped the green beans into another pot. "Oh, don't be too disappointed. We had pizza the first night he was gone, but we ate it for two days afterward, so we're a little sick of it. I haven't burned anything yet, but I should go so that I don't."

"Mom. I was teasing."

Marion guessed she hadn't kept shaky anger from her voice as well as she'd thought. "Oh, I know, sweetie! Have a great night. I love you!" She hung up the phone with a clank, glared at it for a moment, and rolled her eyes at herself. _Stop being so sensitive._

The door to the den rolled open a few inches, and part of Amy's face appeared in the crack. "Is it okay to come out?"

"Yes, Lou had to go. Actually, I had to go. Anyway, the conversation's over, and there's no more discussion of presents, so you can come out." She clicked on the burner underneath the green beans, checked the time on the meatloaf, and rolled up her sleeves to start washing dishes. When she turned around, Amy was looking at her.

"Did Lou say something stupid again?"

"No! No, no, no." Feeling her shoulders let go of tension she hadn't realized was there, she paused and poured dishwashing soap onto a sponge. "Well, yes, kind of. But I just have to remember that she can be, well, blunt sometimes."

"You mean she can be a butt sometimes." Mischief flickered in Amy's eyes.

"Amy!" Marion laughed in spite of herself. "Yes, but I love her anyway, just like I love you even when you say things you shouldn't."

Amy grinned and pushed up her sleeves. "You wash; I'll dry?"

"Sure." Marion was about to hand Amy a dishcloth when she remembered. "Actually, turn on the computer for me. Lou gave me some homework to do."

()()()()()

The homework took Marion until midnight to figure out and gave her another headache, though she was able to sleep that one off.

When Ty came the next day, she had to tell him he couldn't officially work for her until he'd brought her a copy of his birth certificate, gotten some form signed by one of his parents—"My dad's away, but I'll get my mom to sign it," he told her, sounding as if he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring her—gone with said parent to a bank to get said form notarized, mailed said signed and notarized form to some government department in Richmond, and gotten some certificate back.

"I was more specific than that," Marion reassured Lou, who called that afternoon to make sure Marion had looked over the information and signed and submitted some form of her own. "And we filled out some of the information right then." Wedging the handset between her ear and her shoulder, she scooped grain from a bin into Jake's bucket and remembered how Ty's face had flushed half a shade when they'd filled out his address and phone number.

"Did you fill it out correctly?"

"Well, I guess we'll find out in, what, a week? A week and a half? I'm supposed to get some certificate back in the mail."

"It's not simply 'some certificate.' It's the employment certificate, and it's very important. You should put it in the filing cabinet in a folder with the copy of his birth certificate. And label the folder."

Marion carried the bucket to Jake's stall and made sure her voice was light. "Are you sure you don't want to visit for a few days and take care of this stuff yourself?"

"I wish I could visit. But I can't."

Hooking Jake's bucket onto his stall wall, Marion blinked at the wistful sincerity in Lou's words. "I know. I understand that you have a lot to do for your classes," she said quickly as she walked back to the feed room.

"Yes, well." Lou paused, and when she spoke again, her voice had regained its usual brisk tone. "Now, I need to get back to work. I'll speak with you again soon."

"All right. I love you, sweetie." She'd just put down the phone and grabbed another bucket when she heard a car pull into the driveway. She narrowed her eyes; was it already time for Ty to come for his lesson? But he always rode his bike.

She peered around the feed room door to see Dad's faded gold and white pickup parked in its usual spot. Dad climbed out of the driver's side, all blue jeans and plaid flannel and cowboy hat, and—she did a double-take—Ty came around from the passenger's side. _How did_ that _happen?_

And then one of the notes on her mental refrigerator flashed big and bright in her mind—the one that said, "Teach Ty to ride (preferably before Dad gets home)." Ty hadn't even trotted on a horse yet. _Whoops._

After dropping off Shady's feed bucket, Marion headed up to Dad's truck. Ty was standing by the driver's side with crossed arms while Dad was pulling Ty's bike—with a flat and saggy front tire—from the pickup bed and telling him, "I'll fix that tire and leave your bike by the barn, but if you change your mind and want me to drive you home, you let me know."

Ty nodded. "Thanks. Oh, hey, Marion."

"Yeah, hey, Marion." Dad gave her that smile that only lifted half his mustache, and Marion couldn't help but smile back.

"Well, hi there! What happened?"

"I ran over some broken glass by accident on my way here, and my tire popped." The corner of Ty's mouth twitched up. "I was going to walk the rest of the way, but Jack picked me up."

"He said he was coming here for riding lessons—and that he works here." Dad's eyebrows rose, and Marion knew she was in trouble.

She flashed a grin anyway. "Well, he will once we get all the paperwork back from the state. Ty, why don't you saddle up Pegasus? I'll be there to give you your riding lesson as soon as I'm done feeding the horses."

After Ty nodded and strode off, Dad gave her a significant look and jerked his head toward the pickup. "Help me get these bags to the house." Marion followed him to the back of the truck, where he flipped down the tail gate to reveal dozens of bags and boxes in the pickup bed. It never failed that he came back from Glen and Sylvia's with more than he'd taken with him: Sylvia always sent him home with cookies, pies, homemade jam, and canned vegetables.

Dad set a box full of jam jars on the tail gate, and Marion hauled the box to the porch before trying to grab a black trash bag poking over the side of the truck. But she was too short to heave its weight over. "What do you have in here? The barn that you all tore down?" She knew it was absolutely useless trying to distract him from whatever short but pointed lecture he was shaping in his head, but she tried anyway.

"Not quite." Dad lifted the bag himself and set it on the ground. "You sure you haven't bitten off more than you can chew?"

Marion took a box of pies from him and set it on top of the jam jars. "Ty's been a great help, Dad. He's a natural with the horses, and he learns so fast! He and Amy get along really well, too."

For a long moment, Dad furrowed his brows at her over the top of another big black bag. Finally, she said, "I can't just let him go. He needs this job." She hoped he didn't ask her to explain why, because she didn't have any reason other than she just _knew_. She met his gaze with a look that she hoped contained more sincerity than just plain stubbornness.

Finally, Dad nodded. "All right."

Marion smiled, realizing how much better she felt now that Dad knew about Ty—and approved. "He's great; I think you'll really like him." She held the door open for him.

Dad looked backwards at her. "Well, you don't have those bags under your eyes anymore, so I guess he must be taking some of the load off of you."

Marion smirked and caught up to him. "Thanks a lot."

A corner of Dad's mustache lifted, and his eyes glinted. After he set the bag onto the counter, he helped her put the jam and pies away. "Now, as for those lessons, how about I take them over?"

Marion blinked and took a jar of strawberry preserves from him. "You, give riding lessons?"

Dad's eyebrows tipped toward the brim of his hat. "Glad to see you remember all the time I put into teaching you how to post properly."

"Oh, I remember now, Drill Sergeant." Dad chuckled, and Marion set the last jar on the pantry shelf. "That would be great. Thank you."

As they headed back to the truck for more luggage, Dad swatted away a fly buzzing around his hat and asked, "Now, what do you know about Ty?"

Marion threw a hand up to ward off the same fly. "Well, I know that his dad is a truck driver and his mom stays at home. I think he has a brother? Yeah, a younger brother. Why?" She grabbed a stack of Tupperware containers filled with cookies. "You got him to spill his whole life story during that five-minute car ride, didn't you?"

Dad snorted. "Hardly. He doesn't talk much, does he?"

"No," Marion said with a laugh.

Dad pulled the last cardboard box off of the flatbed and closed the tailgate. "I guess I'm just wondering why his mom would let him ride his bike here on a day like today. Must be over ninety degrees out here. And how far does he have to ride?"

Marion lifted one shoulder and shook her head repeatedly, as if that would help her think. After a few moments, she said, "Maybe his mom can't drive. I don't know." She paused as something occurred to her for the first time. "Ty will tell us about himself when he's ready. For now, I think we should just be glad that he's here." The tiny practical part of her brain, which tried harder when Dad was around, kicked in, and she added, "And maybe offer him rides."

"Hmph." Dad was quiet as they walked to the house. When they got to the porch, he looked at her. "Well, seems like you got what you needed."

Marion rested her arms on the porch rail and watched as Ty trotted Pegasus around the ring and Amy sat on the rail of the round pen, offering what Marion knew would be extremely helpful suggestions. She smiled over at Dad. "I think he's exactly what we needed."


	4. Part 1: Before, Chapter 4

"Across the sea / The space between / Everything you think you know / The things you keep / And bury deep / Underneath the melting snow / I'll follow." – Audrey Assad

 **Part 1: Before**

 **Chapter 4**

 _April 2004_

When Ty stopped at the community mailbox on the twelfth day after he'd passed his driver's test, his family's slot was empty. Which could mean only one thing: Dad was home from his latest trip.

Ty stifled a sigh, shut and locked the slot, and swung his leg over his bike. Spring peepers chirped and a cool breeze rushed past his face as he pedaled, but he barely noticed.

He didn't get gut feelings the way Amy and Marion did, but he did have a strong sense of irony. So he knew his license had come today and Dad had picked up the mail and opened the letter from the Virginia DMV and would tell him something very close to, "Hope you're not expecting a car for your birthday. You work at that fancy horse farm; you pay for your own stuff."

When he got to the house, he wheeled his bike over the curb, past Dad's company car—a silver Ford Focus with "Paladin Transport" on both sides—and through the narrow side yard into the backyard. Putting the bike into the shed, he felt grateful that he'd mowed the lawn the previous evening: one less thing for Dad to do.

The only noise when Ty walked through the front door was the muffled sound of running water somewhere toward the back of the house. Dad was standing at the kitchen counter that jutted out from the wall and separated the kitchen from the living room; he picked up an envelope from a pile of mail and examined at it. He was in his typical just-come-home gear: two days' worth of stubble on his face, stained plaid shirt with the sleeves folded up to his elbows.

Mom was the one taking a shower, then. Good: she was getting ready to go out to dinner, which meant Dad had gotten a good paycheck from his latest trip. And since Dad had just gotten home, she would still have that focus that always swung back whenever he returned from trips, which meant Ty wouldn't have to rap the bathroom door and tell her it was time to come out or else she'd wrinkle from being in the water for so long (and Dad would wonder loudly why the heck the water bill was so high).

Dad didn't look up when Ty headed to the sink to wash his hands. Ty said, "Hey" anyway and got a "Hey" in return. He sneaked a look at the pile of mail, but he couldn't see if any of the envelopes bore an address from the Virginia DMV. He knew it was there, though, and that it wasn't the letter Dad was still scowling at. That look was reserved for all bills, whether they were high, low, or average.

As he dried his hands on a dishtowel covered with faded spring flowers, he noticed a bouquet of orange lilies on the table and a box of store-bought Snickerdoodles on the counter and pictured Mom running around and trying to match the cheer in the house to the sudden cheer she must've felt when Dad had called to tell her he'd be heading home.

While grabbing a glass from the cabinet, Ty heard Dad tear open another envelope. "Huh."

Ty filled his glass from the Brita filter attached to the faucet. _Yep._ He watched as Dad peeled a small plastic card from the letter.

"Guess you got your license, huh?"

"I did." Ty drank down the water and watched Dad squint at the driver's license. Ty knew that, somehow, he was being judged even though there was nothing on that card except for facts he couldn't control. He could control his weight, he supposed, but he was only a little on the thin side—just like Dad himself.

Finally, Dad held out the card between two fingers. "Hope you're not expecting a car for your birthday. They should pay you enough at that fancy horse farm for you to buy one yourself."

Ty took the license and slipped it into his wallet. "I have some money saved up." It would be pointless to mention that, with the amount from each paycheck he used to help pay bills, it wasn't enough. He moved to open the dishwasher but glanced at Dad and got the dishwashing soap out instead. Ty tried to understand why his stingy father insisted on washing dishes by hand instead of putting them in the dishwasher— _Dishwashers break and have to be replaced? But so do faucets. Are faucets a cheaper fix than dishwashers?_ —but resigned himself to never really knowing.

Turning to grab the flowered dishtowel, he caught Dad squinting at him. Dad quickly looked down at the mail, and Ty wondered what in the world he'd been thinking. Nothing nostalgic about his son being old enough to get his driver's license, he was sure of that.

Abruptly, the sound of running water stopped, and Dad let out a sigh. "I need a shower," he said under his breath as he walked down the hall. "We're going to Roy Roger's for dinner," he called over his shoulder.

Glass in one hand, Ty stood in the silence in the middle of the kitchen for a second. Suddenly he felt the tension between his raised shoulder blades—a tightness that he suddenly realized had been there since he got home.

He forced his shoulders down and, with a shake of his head, put the glass away and flipped through the rest of the mail.

Nothing else had his name on it, and since Dad was home, Ty didn't need to (and couldn't) help Mom go through and pay the bills. So he retreated to his room, where he sat on his bed and wondered how long it would be before Dad left for his next trip. Sometimes he was home for a few days; sometimes he was home for a month. _At least I'll be at school or Heartland every day._

He exhaled, crossed the room to his desk, and pulled out a notebook and pen. He might as well try to figure out how (if) he could buy a car.

()()()()()

When Ty stepped outside after what ended up being a very fast, very cold shower, Dad was sitting in the silver Ford, windows down, listening to the Eagles. _"Welcome to the Hotel California / Such a lovely place."_ Lee was hunched over a Batman comic book on the curb next to the truck; his sage green beanie smashed his black hair against his forehead.

Mom must still be inside getting ready. In the split second Ty decided to wait inside in the living room chair by the door, Dad poked his head out the window.

"You planning to bring one of those horses home?"

Ty felt his stomach clench and walked down the stairs and to the truck to avoid having to yell. "Definitely not." He breathed a laugh and waited for Dad to get to the point.

Dad rested an arm on the bottom of the window opening. "When did you mow the lawn last?"

"Yesterday evening."

"When did you mow it before that?"

Ty stood blinking, half of his brain trying to remember and the other half trying to figure out where this conversation was going. Before it could do either, Lee spoke up, head still bent over his comic book.

"Not in, like, forever." He stretched out his toothpick legs and crossed them at the ankles.

Dad's eyes and mouth tightened. "So until last night, you didn't mow it at all when I was gone?"

"No." Ty breathed another laugh, gently kicked Lee's knee, and earned himself a glare from beneath the green beanie and the black fringe. "Lee's just kidding."

He knew it was useless to explain that Lee had recently started exaggerating, maybe to make up for the majority of the time when he said nothing at all. Thankfully, Ty suddenly remembered the last time he'd mowed the lawn. "I mowed it a week ago, actually. Last Tuesday."

Dad squinted at him for a long moment, in which Ty wanted to look away but didn't, and then grunted. "Blade must've been too high. I'll have to mow it again tomorrow." He gave a short, tight sigh.

Ty felt guilt and frustration settle in his stomach. "I can do it when we get home."

Before Dad could answer, Mom burst halfway out the front door, all loose brown curls and a flowered, ruffled blouse. "I'm all ready! Oh, I have such patient—Oh, I forgot my bracelet!" And she flew back inside.

"I'll go help her look." Ty took the front steps two at a time and shut the front door against the continuing strains of "Hotel California." _He must have the tape in. That's way too long to be the radio version._

He found Mom in the back bedroom, frantically searching through a dozen jewelry boxes scattered across the top of her dresser. "I know it's here somewhere! I was all ready! Oh, I don't want us to be late!" She snapped a blue jewelry box shut and threw it back into a drawer.

"Hey, it's Roy Rogers; it's not like we have reservations." Ty grinned at her and picked up a white jewelry box with silver glitter on the lid.

The tightness in Mom's smile and the regret in her eyes as she tossed yet another box back into the drawer let him know she understood what he'd been trying to do, but it hadn't worked. "I know, but—but I got the flowers." She gave up on the boxes and now pawed through the top drawer, shoving filmy scarves and necklaces and ring boxes back and forth before dropping them onto the floor. "And the cookies. And I was all ready and—"

"Hey!" Ty caught her hand before she let the bracelet fall.

"Oh!" Mom clasped the bracelet, a chain of tiny silver leaves, onto her left wrist. She stared at it for a moment, took a deep breath, and began picking up the scarves, necklaces, and boxes littering the rug. Ty silently helped, trying to make sure the scarves were on the right side of the drawer, the ring boxes were in the middle, and the jewelry boxes were on the left with the necklaces on top of them.

Mom furrowed her brow. "Your dad's going to get impatient."

Ty threw her a half smile. "He's probably still listening to 'Hotel California.'"

Mom's eyes lit up. "He's listening to the tape! The one I got him for his birthday. He used to have one that we listened to all the time, but it got smashed up with the car—you know, when that tree fell on it? The winter you were born?"

Smiling and nodding and ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest, Ty stacked the last jewelry box in the drawer. "All set?"

Mom scanned the room. "I think so—oh!" Shaking her head at herself, she snatched her purse off the bed. "Now I'm ready!" But she stopped by the mirror above the dresser and pulled out her lipstick.

Ty retreated to the doorway and leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets. He gazed toward the front door and wondered if "Hotel California" was over yet.

"Did your license come yet?"

Ty glanced over at Mom as she pressed her lips together in front of the mirror. "It came today."

She hurried over. "Can I see?"

He pulled it from his wallet and handed it to her, and as she looked it over, her smile burst into a full-fledged grin. "Oh, you look so handsome in your picture!" She gave him a quick, tight hug, the kind that always reassured Ty of the strength she still had. "I'm so proud of you."

With a half-smile, he took the license back, and they headed outside. Lee had finished the Batman comic book, which sat on the curb beside him, and moved on to a Wolverine one. Dad was still sitting in the truck with the windows down, but "Hotel California" had indeed ended.

" _Johnny come lately / The new kid in town / Everybody loves you / So don't let them down."_

"Sorry for the wait!" Mom said brightly. Lee's eyes flickered up before he clambered up from the curb, jeans dusty from the concrete, and threw open the door to climb into the Ford.

"Careful!" Dad stepped out of the car toward Mom and cracked a smile. "You look nice." He walked her to her side of the car. "Took you long enough." From his seat behind the driver's side, Ty thought he saw a teasing quirk to Dad's smile as he opened the door for Mom.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, but I had to find this." She held up her wrist. "Remember? You got this for me on your trip to Kansas? From that fair?"

"I remember." Dad moved to go to the driver's side, but Mom stopped him.

"Oh, you must be tired of driving! Why doesn't Ty drive? Did you know he got his license today?"

Ty leaned forward. "No, that's okay—"

"Not today." Dad climbed in and shut the door with a bang. Then he surprised Ty by saying, "Maybe another time." Whether Dad meant it or said it just to keep Mom calm, Ty didn't know. Dad had always said he couldn't let anybody else drive the company car except in an emergency.

"Oh. All right." Mom sank into her seat for a moment but quickly straightened up and leaned forward to turn up the volume on the tape player. "We used to listen to this song all the time. Remember?"

" _There's a new kid in town. / Ooh hoo / Everybody's talking 'bout the new kid in town."_

Ty leaned his head against the window and listened to Mom sing along in her slightly off-key, enthusiastic way. In the rearview mirror, he caught a hint of a smile on Dad's face and decided things would stay this way at least through dinner.

()()()()()

Everybody was still asleep when Ty crept out of the house, wheeled his bike through the damp grass, and pedaled off toward Heartland the next morning. The whole sky looked like one big, flat cloud, though he didn't think it was supposed to rain.

Dinner at Roy Roger's had been uneventful, if quiet; the only talking had been about how good the food was, with Dad making statements, Mom enthusiastically agreeing, Lee grunting, and Ty semi-smiling and nodding. Once they'd gotten home, Ty had gone straight to his room to do his homework—or try to, anyway. The semester was almost over, but geometry still didn't make any sense.

As he coasted down the hill past the mailboxes, Ty found himself going over the numbers he'd written out last afternoon. He guessed he might have enough money saved up to make a down payment on a car—was that even the right term?—and he thought he could pay for gas based on his calculations, but he couldn't figure out how to make insurance or monthly payments work with what he got paid versus what he put toward his family's bills. He could, he guessed, look for a really cheap car, but then he'd probably have to put a lot of money toward fixing it up and keeping it running.

His bike was fine, he reflected while pedaling down the main road. The black paint had always been a little rusty, but the wheels had good tread, the brakes were dependable, and the gears were smooth. But he couldn't ride it in snow, ice, or heavy rain, and Jack and Marion wouldn't let him ride it when it was too hot or too cold.

And it wasn't like he could take anybody else anywhere on it. If he got a car, though, he could drive Mom to run errands; then she wouldn't have to ride the tight-packed, noisy bus and end up frazzled and exhausted before even getting to Walmart.

When he reached Heartland's driveway, he stood up on the bike pedals and pumped his way up the steep asphalt. He did like the exercise, but it would be nice to drive up and down this hill rather than having to strain to pedal up it or walk his bike down it to avoid coasting straight into the road.

Ty instantly felt disgusted with himself. _"Biking is too much work." That's basically what I just thought. I sounded spoiled and whiny_ —two characteristics he couldn't stand. Dad couldn't stand them, either, and as Ty pumped hard along the front pasture, he reflected that he probably shouldn't include "no longer having to bike up and down hills" as a reason if Dad ever drilled him about why he wanted a car.

Finally, he reached the top of the driveway and sat back down for the last few hundred feet. Hopping off and propping his bike against the farmhouse porch, he heard Amy's voice coming from the barn. He followed the sound and found her standing in the aisle, brushing and talking to Sundance.

"You are the handsomest pony I've ever seen. Ashley doesn't know what she's talking about." Sundance snorted when he saw Ty, and Amy looked up, too, her ponytail dipping over her shoulder. "Oh, hi." She gave a quick smile and focused on brushing Sundance's withers. She'd stopped jumping and blushing whenever he walked in on her having a conversation with a horse, but she did still tend to stop talking.

Ty grabbed a bucket and started filling it with grain. "Ashley's been trying to psych you out again?"

Disgust flared in Amy's gray eyes as the brush stopped moving. "Do you want to know what she said? She said that even though Sundance looks like an ugly mule, that won't matter— _for now_." Ty had never met Ashley, but he figured the sneering way Amy spoke the last two words was a good imitation of the other girl's voice. "What does that even mean?"

Ty shrugged and hooked the grain bucket in Jake's stall. "I wouldn't know." He did think it made sense that the higher up you went in competing, the more important your horse's looks and style were, but that was not what Amy needed to hear right now. He scooped grain into another bucket. "She was just trying to bug you." He shot her a half smile on his way to Jasmine's stall. "Looks like it worked."

Amy made a face at him as she led Sundance back to his stall.

He looked over the top of Jasmine's stall door. "You shouldn't let her get to you."

"I know; I know. But Ashley's so annoying."

 _Okay, not working_. "You've been practicing so much; I'm sure you and Sundance will do great."

He heard her sigh. "Yeah, you're right. I know." She walked back to the feed bins with Ty and helped him scoop grain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her chewing on her bottom lip. She turned to him. "Mom says I should try to be more understanding of Ashley. She says Mrs. Grant's a jerk."

Ty shot her a double take—both because of her words and because he'd just realized she now came up to his eyebrows instead of his nose. "Your mom called somebody a jerk?"

"Well, no." Amy closed the feed bin lid and followed Ty down the barn aisle. "She said Mrs. Grant is 'difficult.' But I could totally tell she wanted to say 'jerk' by the look on her face."

Picturing the exact look Amy meant, Ty laughed from Pegasus's stall. Amy grinned at him from the stall across the aisle, and from the way the smile reached her gray eyes, Ty knew she felt better.

"Ugh, I totally forgot to ask—did you get your driver's license yet?" Amy asked, shutting the stall door behind her.

He gave her a half-smile, glad that he could finally answer "yes" to the question she'd enthusiastically asked for the past twelve days. He took his wallet from his pocket, pulled out his license, and held the card out to her. "It came yesterday."

She snatched the license and looked it over for half a second before giving him a wide grin. "That's so awesome, Ty."

He smiled back and felt a flicker of warmth in his chest that he couldn't quite describe or explain. "Thanks." Careful to avoid her fingers, he took his license back.

"I'll be right back," she said, already jogging toward the barn door. "Do you want a muffin? Grandpa got up early and made some."

"Yeah, thanks." For a moment, he watched her sprint up the driveway, her brown ponytail swishing between her shoulders. _What was that?_ Shaking his head at himself, he headed for the tack room to get lead ropes.

Since Ty believed in getting the worst part of a job out of the way, he decided to put Sundance out first. The instant Ty was in sight, Sundance pressed his chest against the stall door and flattened his ears, completely blocking Ty from entering the stall.

"It's not nice to call you a mule, but you definitely act like one sometimes," Ty said under his breath. He held up the lead rope on the off chance that Sundance would realize he was going outside and behave. But Sundance pinned his ears back even further, stomped a hoof, and glared at Ty.

"Hey, all right, I'll let Amy take you out." At the sound of footsteps, Ty looked up to see Amy sprinting toward him. He felt his stomach do a funny little flip, and he pulled a corner of his mouth into what he hoped was a normal, friendly half-smile.

Amy pulled up at the barn door and reached for the lead rope in Ty's hand. "I'll take that. Mom and Grandpa want you up at the house." She was fighting a huge smile, and unmistakable excitement shone in her gray eyes.

After shooting her a curious look that she pretended not to see, he left the barn and walked up the driveway. When he reached the porch, he heard Amy's voice and glanced over his shoulder to see her leading Sundance to the field. Of course, the pony walked obediently beside her as she talked to him.

Marion burst out of the house and flung the screen door open so forcefully that it bounced off the siding. "Whoops!" She and Ty dashed forward at the same time to stop the door from slamming back into place. He held the door open for her, and she stepped outside.

She laughed sheepishly. "Good morning!"

Ty breathed a laugh and eased the door shut. "Good morning." He felt one side of his mouth quirk as he recognized on her face the same look of explosive glee Amy had worn in the barn. "What's going on?"

Marion's grin widened. "I'm going to help Amy with the horses. Dad's in the kitchen." She threw a blueberry muffin at Ty. "Here, have a muffin!" And she bounded down the stairs.

Biting into the muffin, Ty shook his head and went inside the house.

Leaning against the kitchen sink, Jack lowered his silver travel mug to from his mouth. "I see you didn't quite get knocked over by those two whirlwinds that just blew outta here."

Ty swallowed his bite of muffin and grinned. "Almost. What's gotten into them?"

Jack shifted and set his mug on the counter. "Well, Amy tells me your license finally came in the mail."

"Yeah, it did. Yesterday." Ty took another chunk of muffin.

Jack grinned. "Good for you. And as far as the two of them—well, they know about my plan, and I guess it's making them kind of giddy."

"What plan?"

Jack crossed his legs at the ankle and rested his hands on the edge of the sink. "Well, my understanding was that the main point of you getting your license was for you to be able to drive to work. And you can't quite drive to work unless you've got a car. So when you first told me you were taking that driver's ed class, I decided I'd find a way for you to get one. And I decided that the day you got your license would be the last day you'd have to ride your bike here."

Ty blinked. So that's why Amy and Marion had been so excited—they thought he was going to buy a car today. "Thank you, Jack, but I can't afford car payments right now. I think I could pay for gas, and that's it."

One corner of Jack's mustache lifted. "Maybe I didn't explain my plan right." He raised his eyebrows. "My plan, if it's all right with you, is to buy you a car myself."

Ty narrowed his eyes at Jack. "What—really?" At Jack's solemn nod, Ty shook his head in disbelief. Jack was going to buy him a car. He was going to get a car today, as long as they found a good one. He stepped forward and gave Jack a hug. "Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much."

Jack chuckled. "You're very welcome."

Ty stepped back, reflecting that he wouldn't have to sit at his desk and try to make numbers that always ended up negative somehow turn positive. Well, maybe he would try to figure out one more payment. "I'm sure I can find a way to pay for the insurance."

Jack chuckled. "Since you're so concerned about paying for something, you can pay for gas, like you said, but I've got the insurance figured out. It's all part of the plan." He grabbed his car keys and hat from the counter. "Now come on. You want another muffin for the road?" He tossed one to Ty before taking one for himself.

As Jack and Ty headed down the driveway in the gold and white pickup, Marion and Amy ran to the pasture fence and waved their arms above their heads. "Bye! Have fun!" they yelled in unison.

Ty grinned and waved back, and Jack chuckled and shook his head.

Amy cupped her hands around her mouth. "Get a red car!"

Ty leaned out of his window and looked back. "A red car? Why?"

"I don't know. I just like red cars."

Shaking his head, Ty sank back into his seat. "They're crazy."

Jack guffawed. "They sure are."

With the radio playing at a quiet hum, they drove along the main road. Staring out his window, Ty reflected that he hadn't felt anything out of the ordinary when they'd driven past Amy. Maybe whatever happened earlier was just a weird, momentary thing."So where are we going?"

"I already talked to a friend of mine—Ila Stark's his name—who's got a used car place just outside of town. I trust him—he's not gonna sell us a piece of junk, and he'll give us a fair deal. D'you have any idea what you want?"

Ty blinked and breathed a laugh. "I hadn't thought past how I was going to pay for one. I think I want a truck, though. If that's all right."

Jack nodded. "That's what I'd been thinking. And I think you know I'd take a truck over a car any day." He glanced over at Ty. "Goes better with my image." At Ty's laugh and nod, he continued, "More to the point, though, trucks are good in all kinds of weather. A little car'll slip and slide around in winter or a good rainstorm. Now, cars do get better gas mileage—I'll give them that. But you can haul more stuff around in a truck."

"Sounds good," Ty said, bobbing his head once. They pulled up to a field surrounded by chain link fence with "Stark's Quality Used Cars" in jagged, oversized blue letters on a white board over the open gate. A small white building with an open service area sat at the end of a gravel driveway. About twenty vehicles, from VW Beetles to Dodge Durangos to Ford Tauruses, sat on bright green grass.

"Ila said he'd be waiting out back," Jack said as his pickup bumped over the lawn. "That's where the trucks are, too."

As they rounded the back of the shop, where a short, stocky man who clearly hadn't combed his wispy white hair or shaved his whiskered face in at least a few days stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned at them, Ty wondered for the first time what Dad would say when Ty drove his new truck home that evening. _Probably something about how, if "that fancy horse place" can afford to buy me a truck, they can afford to pay me more by the hour_.

Maybe he wouldn't tell Dad Jack had bought the truck. Maybe he'd just shrug and mention the money he'd saved up.

He made a face as Jack stopped the pickup. No, he couldn't lie. It wasn't as if Dad's statements always expected answers, anyway. _And if Dad asks about insurance or car payments, I can just tell him that it's all taken care of._ He glanced at Jack, feeling grateful, and hopped out of the car and into the field of trucks.

()()()()()

After test-driving six different trucks, filling out the paperwork for the pickup that Ty finally chose—a blue 2000 GMC Sierra—taking care of insurance, going to Arby's for celebratory roast beef sandwiches, and stopping at Walmart for the first aid kit and flashlight Jack insisted he keep in the car, they didn't get back to Heartland until almost six that evening. Of course, Ty reflected as he eased his new pickup up next to his old bike, Jack and Ila had spent probably a total of two hours in between all of that talking about the band they'd been in back in the fifties and sixties.

As he climbed down from the cab and shut the door, the screen door swung open and Amy stepped outside. Crossing her arms, she raised her eyebrows. "That is definitely not a red car." Gray eyes sweeping over the truck, she ambled off the porch. "A blue truck was my second choice, though."

Ty heard Jack laugh from the other side of the white and gold pickup, parked next to his own truck, and grinned. "I'm glad to know you approve."

Amy turned to Grandpa, who was walking past her up the porch stairs. "So can Ty drive me somewhere in it?"

Ty felt that weird fuzziness in his stomach. Maybe it was from the curly fries. _Sure…_

About to step inside, Jack twisted around. "You finish your homework?" At Amy's nod, he said, "All right then. That's up to Ty."

He looked from Jack to Amy. "We could go to Dairy Queen. Did you eat dinner yet?"

"Sort of. Mom tried to cook taquitos and pizza bites at the same temperature, but she ended up burning the taquitos. So we had pizza bites and baby carrots."

Jack bobbed his head and sighed. "Well, at least you had a vegetable. Have fun." He disappeared into the house.

As Amy climbed into the passenger's seat, Ty checked all the mirrors again. "Buckle up."

"I've been riding in a car since I was a baby. I know the rules." She clicked her seatbelt into place.

"Sorry. I know." He eased his truck around Jack's.

"Why are you nervous?" Amy asked, laughter in her voice (and, he knew without looking, in her eyes).

 _Because my stomach is still doing that funny fuzzy thing and I have no idea why._ "Because I've never driven with anybody who's not an adult before and I want to bring you back to Heartland in one piece." Flicking on his turn signal, he waited at the bottom of Heartland's driveway for a minivan to go by.

Amy snorted. "You'll be fine; you're Mr. Responsible. It's all the other drivers—the crazy, non-responsible ones—you have to worry about."

Ty shot her a wry look before pulling onto the main road. "Thanks for the reminder." They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, and Ty forced himself to focus on the road instead of Amy's profile. _This is only weird because Amy and I have never gone anywhere just the two of us. I should just talk about something normal, and everything will be fine._ "Hey, did you get to practice jumping today?"

"Yeah! He was awesome!" And, to Ty's relief, Amy proceeded to talk about jumping Sundance for the rest of the ride. He listened and smiled and nodded, as usual, and managed to ignore the voice that kept trying to make connections between the fuzziness in his stomach—not as noticeable now, though still there—and what he'd felt toward Kerry-Ann three years before.

()()()()()

As Ty stood at the counter at Dairy Queen waiting for his Oreo Blizzard, Amy paused in agonizing over whether to get a dipped cone or a sundae and turned to him. "We should eat in the back of your truck."

Ty took his Blizzard from the black-haired, dimpled girl, whose nametag read "Jules," behind the counter. "Thanks. And yeah, we can do that."

"Cool." Amy stepped up to the register. "Okay, I'm ready. I'll take a small dipped—no, a small hot fudge sundae. Yeah."

"Is that your final answer?" Jules asked with a teasing twist to her smile.

Amy took a breath. "Yes. Yes, a small hot fudge sundae, please. With nuts."

Jules smiled. "Coming right up." She turned to the ice cream machine but froze. "I hate to cause you more agony, but I have to ask: do you want whipped cream?"

Amy's eyes widened. "Uhhh…" Jules just laughed.

Glad that Jules found Amy's indecisiveness amusing rather than obnoxious, Ty grinned and dug out his wallet.

Amy glanced over at him. "I can pay for mine."

"Your grandpa bought me a truck today. I got this."

"You sure?"

Jules handed Amy her sundae. "Hey, he's offering to pay. Let him—and keep him."

As Ty willed his face to remain its normal color, he watched Amy's gray eyes narrow for half a second.

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," she said with an awkward laugh. "He works for my mom." She paused before adding, "And he's my friend."

"Ugh, I am so sorry," Jules said, punching in their orders. "I shouldn't have assumed. But good for you guys—dating isn't all it's cracked up to be; trust me." She handed Ty the receipt. "You two have a great evening, okay?"

Ty gave her a half smile. "It's all right. You, too." _Friends. Right. That's what we are._

Sundae in hand, Amy marched out of Dairy Queen and across the gravel parking lot. When they reached the truck, she leaned against the side and stabbed her spoon into her ice cream. "Why does everybody assume that when they see a guy and a girl together, they're boyfriend and girlfriend? Girls and guys can just be friends." She took a bite and spoke around the ice cream, waving her spoon. "You and I are just friends. Matt and I are just friends."

Ty set his Blizzard on the side of the truck bed and unhooked the tailgate. "Hey, she apologized. She was nice." _That's right—we're friends. Just friends._

Amy sighed through her nose. "I know. I just get tired of all the boyfriend-girlfriend talk, you know? That's all anybody at school talks about."

With a sympathetic nod, Ty sat down on the truck bed, and Amy hopped up next to him. For a few minutes, they focused on eating ice cream. "How's your sundae?"

Legs swinging off the end of the pickup bed, Amy delicately licked some chocolate sauce off the back of her spoon. "Good. I kind of wish I'd gone with the dipped cone, though. This cup is making my hand cold."

Ty just breathed a laughed and handed her some napkins. Their fingers brushed, but Ty felt nothing—except relief at the nothing. _We're just friends_.

()()()()()

But halfway through his drive home, windows down, April air ruffling his hair, he realized he couldn't stop thinking about Amy. How her gray eyes gleamed when she found out he'd gotten his license. How cute she'd looked standing at the Dairy Queen counter—hands on her hips, scowling up at the menu.

The indignation in her voice when she'd said, _"You and I are just friends."_

Right. So what was he going to do about it? Nothing, he decided, driving past the community mailbox. Act normal. And hopefully, she, Marion, and Jack wouldn't figure anything out.

When he pulled up to the house and cut the engine, the buzz of a lawnmower filled the air. Just as he got out of the truck, Dad pushed the lawnmower through the back fence and to the front yard.

Immediately, Dad shut the lawnmower off and walked over, lifting an arm to wipe his brow and in the process revealing sweat rings under his sleeve. "You had enough saved up for that, huh?" he asked, walking around the pickup and inspecting it with squinted eyes.

"No. My boss's dad bought it for me, actually."

As he opened the tailgate and climbed onto the pickup bed, Dad snorted, scorn flitting through his eyes. Walking around the back of the truck, he shook his head. "So they can get you a truck, but they can't pay you better. Figures." He hopped down and shut the tailgate. "How much mileage does this thing have on it?"

Ty followed Dad around to the driver's side. "Sixty-two thousand."

Dad grunted and climbed into the driver's seat. "Hope your boss's dad doesn't think I can just add this thing to my insurance."

Ty shook his head and watched as Dad scowled at all the buttons on the dashboard. "It's taken care of."

Dad shook his head again, opened and shut the glove compartment, and got out. He crossed his arms. "Make sure you always park here. I won't park the company car next to that tree."

Ty nodded. "Okay."

Dad looked at him for a second, bobbed his head once, and walked back to the lawnmower.

Ty stared after him for a moment before locking his truck and walking toward the house. Trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest, he made himself think about the proud grin Jack had shot him as they'd climbed into their separate pickups to leave Stark's Quality Used Cars.

Nodding to himself, he stepped inside the townhouse and shut the door against the whirr of the mower.


	5. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 1

"Across the sea / The space between / Everything you think you know / The things you keep / And bury deep / Underneath the melting snow / I'll follow." – Audrey Assad

 **Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 1**

 _June 2005_

The lightning was so close that it made the lights flicker, and the thunder was so loud that it shook the farmhouse. But Ty wasn't worried that they hadn't gotten back yet. They were just waiting out the storm.

He wasn't worried that they hadn't called, either. Reception on that part of the mountain was iffy in the best weather, and the storm would have totally knocked it out.

So he just sat at the kitchen table, waiting for the storm to be over, just as he was sure Marion, Amy, and that horse were doing over at the Mallons' place.

He pictured Marion calming the horse down, talking to it in that quiet tone, and Amy watching with pride in her gray eyes. A smile lifted a corner of his mouth as he thought about that look—the one Amy got on her face every time she watched her mom.

And then Jack walked into the kitchen, and the look on his face made all of Ty's fears try to rush to the surface. Jack's mouth was tight, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were deeper, and he sighed as he strode straight for the window over the sink.

"You don't think they're out there in that, do you, Jack?"

Jack turned, and at the pronounced furrows between his eyes, Ty felt his stomach squeeze. "I don't know what to think," Jack said.

"But Marion wouldn't drive in that, not with Amy and that horse."

"I don't know." Jack folded his arms. "I tried to tell her to wait—the storm'll be over soon. But she told me that horse couldn't wait." The lights dimmed just as thunder rattled the house again, and they both flinched. When the lights came back, Jack sighed. "Marion doesn't always think straight when a horse is involved."

Jack turned back to the window and stared out into the storm, and Ty clamped down on his thoughts. But one escaped: _Neither does Amy._

()()()()()

It had been an hour since the rain had stopped and they could see outside to the paddocks and the barn and the puddles and twigs littering the driveway—an hour since the bands of angry yellow and red on the Weather Channel radar had finally moved off to be replaced by dots of light green—an hour since Jack had told Ty that he could go home—an hour since Ty had insisted that he'd stay and wait with Jack for Marion and Amy.

But they wouldn't—couldn't—wait anymore. Stepping in puddles and on fallen twigs, Ty led the way to Jack's gold and white pickup, ducked his head against the drizzle, and focused on shutting down the voice that had tugged at his thoughts for the past hour. _They're not back why aren't they back what happened something happened_ —

"I'll drive." Jack's tight voice stopped his mental spiral. Ty nodded and watched as he put a chainsaw and two pairs of thick gloves into the back of the truck. Jack glanced at him. "Storm probably knocked some trees down. We might have to clear our way." With another nod, Ty climbed into the passenger's side.

Jack guided the pickup down the driveway and onto the main road. As water sprayed from a deep puddle onto the windows, Ty's mind returned to the last time he'd seen Amy. She'd been running through the downpour—she stepped right into a wide puddle but didn't falter—to Marion's truck. She probably would've driven it herself if she actually had her license.

And then Ty heard the sirens.

"Whoa." Jack yanked the wheel hard to the right, and the ambulance whipped past, wailing and flashing, just as he managed to pull the pickup over. A fire truck followed, not as fast but just as loud.

The trucks and their blaring sirens and lights disappeared in an instant, and everything was so silent and so still that all Ty could focus on was the pounding of his own pulse. After a moment, he risked a look at Jack.

Jaw clenched, Jack kept his eyes straight ahead. "I'm taking the back way," was all he said as the pickup bumped back onto the road. "Should be faster."

After a few minutes of driving down the main road, Jack turned down a narrow side road, paved but unlined and uneven. One of the front tires dipped into a puddle, spraying mud all over Ty's window. Overgrown grass brushed his side of the pickup as they jerked along.

"Just a mile or so," Jack said, clunking the truck down a gear, "and we'll turn onto that road that leads up to the Mallens'." Ty wondered if Jack was letting him know what to expect—or if Jack was walking himself along every inch of the road ahead—anything to keep from thinking of the sirens.

As Jack rounded a corner, Ty saw a tree lying across the road about twenty feet ahead. The relatively thin tree was split jaggedly in half. They climbed out of the truck, and Jack threw him a pair of gloves. "I'll cut; you toss."

It only took about fifteen minutes for Jack to cut the tree into pieces and Ty to haul them away, but for that quarter of an hour, Ty was able to narrow his focus to the weight and roughness of each piece of wood he picked up and the whoosh-crunch sound each piece made as he tossed it into the brush.

After they'd put away the tools and climbed back into the pickup, though, the anxiety came back. There were so many old, creaky trees on the road to Clairdale Ridge. _What if—_

Ty cut off his own thoughts this time. "Radio okay?" At Jack's nod, he switched it on and caught the tail end of a song that he hadn't thought of for years but suddenly remembered from car rides when he was little.

" _You've got a friend. / Ain't it good to know you've got a friend? / You've got a friend."_

 _James Taylor_. That's right. Mom was a James Taylor fan—or at least she had been when he was little. His memory flashed back to a moment on a vacation to North Carolina—probably the last vacation his family had been on. "Carolina" had come on when they were driving to a seafood place, and Mom had gotten so excited to hear the song when they were actually in one of the Carolinas.

" _In my mind, I'm going to Carolina. / Can't you see the sunshine? / Can't you just feel the moon shining?"_

Jack eased the pickup around another curve, and about half a mile up the road, Ty could see where it joined with Clairdale Ridge—and the "Road Closed" sign that blocked their way.

Jack smacked the wheel. "Oh, for crying out loud." He turned the pickup around again and drove in silence.

Ty waited until some of the scowl had smoothed from Jack's forehead and said, "At least we cleared that tree out of the way."

Jack nodded. "Yeah." He drove on, hands tight around the wheel, shoulders tense.

For a while, the only sound was the clunk of the pickup on the road and the swish of the leggy grass. Ty tried to think of other James Taylor songs that he remembered from when he was little, but he kept coming up with fragmented choruses. As Jack turned back onto the main road, Ty said, "Look, what if we go back to the house first? Maybe they're there."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

The instant they pulled into Heartland, Ty's gaze flew to the top of the driveway. But Marion's maroon pickup and the rusty white trailer weren't there.

"Maybe they're stuck up there with the road closed." Ty unbuckled and opened his door. Jack started striding up to the house, and Ty jogged to catch up. "Maybe one of them called."

"Yeah. Maybe."

As Jack grabbed the handset and punched buttons on the phone, Ty felt slightly better to realize that his suggestion wasn't completely desperate; Jack was actually checking caller ID.

"Well, what do you know? Marion did try to call—a couple of times."

Ty let out a breath. "Good." While Jack redialed, Ty looked in the fridge for a water bottle and decided he'd ask to talk to Marion to find out what sort of preparations he needed to make for the horse.

"Marion? Hello? When you get this, give me a call." Jack hung up the phone with a frustrated sigh. "Went straight to the message."

"Maybe she's driving." _But Amy would've picked up._ He chugged water and shut the voice in his head up.

The phone rang suddenly, and Jack almost dropped it. He walked a few steps as he spoke. "Hello? Marion?" He froze at the table, and Ty knew that something was wrong. "Yes, I'm Jack Bartlett. Yes." Jack's face paled half a shade, and he gripped the back of a chair. Finally, he said hoarsely, "Okay. Thanks." Keeping his hand on the back of the chair, he stared at the phone in his lowered hand.

Ty set his water bottle on the counter. "Jack?"

Jack looked up at Ty, and the eye contact seemed to break him out of his stupor. "There was an accident. They're at Fauquier."

"How bad?"

"I don't know." Jack moved his hand from the back of the chair and punched numbers into the phone. "I've gotta call Lou, and then we've gotta go."

Ty moved toward the door. "I'll drive."

He heard Jack speaking into the phone. "Lou, honey, it's Grandpa. Your mom and Amy . . . they were in an accident."

Ty shut the farmhouse door and headed for his pickup. _It_ _can't be too bad._ He opened the driver's side door, climbed in, and buckled. _It can't be._ He put his key into the ignition. _They just got minor injuries._

Jack came out of the house and got in the passenger's side. "Lou's on her way."

Ty nodded, turned the truck around, headed down the driveway, and sped toward the hospital, looking straight ahead the whole time.

()()()()()

Half an hour later, Ty found himself in a waiting room with bright white walls, tan leather chairs, and a TV quietly showing the evening news in the corner. The smell of antiseptic stung his nose. Doctors and nurses hurried around them, and about a dozen other people with anxious expressions sat in the chairs and chattered among themselves. He realized absently that there must have been a lot of accidents that night.

He glanced over his shoulder at Jack, who was leaning on a half wall and talking to a nurse, a bald black man with a silver mustache. Jack nodded over at Ty, and the nurse craned his neck and met his eyes. Ty tried to read anything in the nurse's expression, but he just nodded and sat back down.

Jack ambled over and quirked a corner of his mustache, but Ty didn't miss the anxious frustration in his eyes. "He says he'll let the doctor know we're here." He sank down into the squeaky leather chair next to Ty.

"He didn't tell you anything else."

Jack shook his head and settled himself further into the chair. "Nope. Confounded hospital rules."

Ty breathed a laugh and focused on the TV, which was showing the weather forecast. Apparently it was supposed to be mild and sunny, with little to no chance of storms, the rest of the week.

"Mr. Bartlett?"

Ty stood with Jack to face the doctor. Ty would remember her name—Dr. Riordan—and her appearance—frizzy blonde hair, dimples, searing blue eyes—for a long time. "And who is this?"

"Ty—"

"My grandson." Jack shot him a glance.

Dr. Riordan looked from Jack to Ty. "Do you have any other friends or family members who are on their way?"

Jack nodded. "My other granddaughter."

Something flickered through Dr. Riordan's gaze, but she hid it too quickly for Ty to figure it out. She just nodded. "Please, follow me."

She led them down a hall, shoes squeaking. Ty had half convinced himself that she was taking them to see Marion or Amy, but instead Dr. Riordan opened a heavy wooden door to reveal a small, dimly lit room with patterned armchairs.

"Please, sit down."

Jack settled one hand on his knee and rested the other across his mouth. His hat lay on his lap. Ty leaned back and crossed his arms and tried to think of any other reason, except for the most obvious one, that Dr. Riordan might have brought them here.

Her voice was soft and oddly pleasant. "Now, what do you know about the accident?"

Jack looked at her and shrugged one shoulder. "Just that there was one. And that they were both unconscious when they were brought here."

Dr. Riordan nodded. "A tree fell on the truck while they were driving. As best as we can tell, someone found them, called 9-1-1, and tried to call you."

Jack nodded slowly. Ty tried to figure out how he felt about the fact that it wasn't Marion or Amy who'd tried to call.

Dr. Riordan continued explaining, looking back and forth from Jack to Ty. "I led the surgery on Amy. Your granddaughter broke two ribs, the second and third ribs on her left side. She sustained a blow to the head, which occurred during the accident, and hasn't regained consciousness or shown signs of doing so. We're monitoring her vital signs, though, which are strong."

Ty had to ask even though he knew what the answer would be. "So when's she going to wake up?"

"We don't know. But as I said, her vital signs are all strong. " Dr. Riordan edged forward in her chair and held her hands out, palm up. "The tree fell mostly on Marion's side of the truck, which is how Amy escaped with relatively minor injuries." She clasped her hands together. "It took the paramedics about twenty minutes to get Marion out of the truck. And as I said, she was unconscious too. She's lost a lot of blood and has several broken bones. The paramedics were able to slow the external bleeding on the way to the hospital but knew there's considerable internal bleeding too."

When she paused, Ty realized he was shaking. As Dr. Riordan had walked them through the accident, he'd been able to picture the entire scene—the tree toppling over on the pickup and crushing the windshield— _And Marion and Amy_. He'd seen the blood and the oddly crooked limbs and the bruises. And there was nothing he could do. He wondered if there was anything _anybody_ could do.

"She's in surgery right now to try to stop the internal bleeding."

Ty let out the breath he didn't know that he'd been holding. _She's still alive._ He'd just glanced over at Jack, whose entire face was a grim, tight line, when someone knocked on the door.

"Excuse me for a moment." Dr. Riordan stood and opened the door to reveal a young doctor still in scrubs, with a mask dangling from his face and curly red hair shoved under a cap. She shut the door behind them.

 _She must be out of surgery. Or maybe they found out exactly what's wrong._ He turned to Jack. "Maybe we can go see Amy soon."

"That'd be good." Jack spoke around the fingers still cradling his face, and they lapsed back into silence.

After a few moments, Dr. Riordan came back. Her voice was a bit halting when she spoke. "I'm sorry—I have some bad news."

Ty looked at Jack, whose hand tightened around his mouth as he leaned forward.

"I'm sorry—I'm afraid that Marion died during the surgery. She lost too much blood."

For a few seconds, Ty was only aware of the sound of his own breathing and the sickening swirl that was taking place in his head and his stomach. His crossed arms loosened themselves from their hold on each other to clench the arms of the chair. The action steadied him a bit, though his head still felt fuzzy, and he looked immediately over at Jack.

Ty knew right then that he would never forget what he saw. Jack's hand was clasped over his mouth, and his eyes were distant but also wide and panicked in his ashen face, as if his body was reacting but his mind was still processing.

"I shouldn't have let them go." The muffled, broken words escaped from behind Jack's hand.

Numbly, Ty shook his head. "Hey, it wasn't your fault, Jack. You said Marion doesn't think straight when it comes to horses." His voice sounded far away but steady and convincing enough.

Eyes flashing, Jack banged his hand on the arm of the chair. "Well, I should have gone with her, then. I should've kept them from leaving that farm—from driving in—in that—blasted—storm." His hand flew back over his mouth, and his chest hitched up and down.

Ty reached for his shoulder, and after a minute, Jack's breathing calmed. Jack looked up at Dr. Riordan, who stood at the door, hands folded, eyes sympathetic. "Can you—" he cleared his throat—"can you point me to a phone? I need to call my granddaughter. My other granddaughter."

"Would you like someone to make the call for you?"

"Ah, no. No. Thanks." Jack rose and, gripping his hat with both hands, headed out the door.

Ty stayed seated, wondering if he should follow Jack or waited there. Ty considered phone calls private, but what about this kind of phone call? Should he go see Amy instead? Or would Jack want to see her first? Or would he want them go together?

 _Jack is calling Lou to tell her that her mom is dead._ He could hear his breaths turn ragged.

Dr. Riordan touched his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Ty shook his head and concentrated on blinking hard. _Okay. He's calling Lou. Lou's going to come here, so somebody's going to need to get a room ready for her._

"I have some things to take care of, but when I come back, you can see Marion with your grandfather, if you'd like," Dr. Riordan said softly.

"Okay." As the door clicked shut, he thought, _I should stay the night at Heartland so Jack can stay here with Amy. Then I can get things ready for Lou and be up to take care of the horses in the morning._

Thinking about the horses made him hear Marion's voice, as clearly as if she were standing right next to him like she'd done just hours before. _"I'm going to call Chester's owner and tell him he can go home tomorrow. You've done a fantastic job with him."_ He would need to be at Heartland whenever Chester's owner came to pick him up.

Then he remembered what else Marion had said when she'd told him about Chester: _"I can't wait to see what you'll do with the next one."_ And then Amy and Soraya had come galloping back from their ride.

Blinking some more and clenching his jaw, he punched his home phone number into his cell phone. After four rings, somebody picked up.

"Yeah?"

He was oddly happy to hear Lee's monosyllables. "Is Mom asleep?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Don't wake her up, but when she does wake up, let her know I'm staying at Heartland tonight because of the storm." He hoped that, when Mom woke up, she would be in a mood that would find that explanation sufficient.

"'Kay."

"Is everything all right there?"

"Yeah." Pause. "The power went out for, like, twenty minutes. It sucked."

Resentment and disgust flashed in Ty's chest, but he quickly shook his head at himself. _He's twelve. He doesn't know._ "Hey, I'll call tomorrow, but call me if you need anything."

"'Kay." _Click_.

Ty sighed and pictured Lee shuffling back to the PS2 and _Need for Speed_.

The door opened and Jack poked his head. "Ah, the doctor said we can, ah—" he cleared his throat—"go see Marion."

Ty walked over but paused in the doorway. When he saw Jack's weary red eyes, he didn't ask the question he'd been planning to ask. Instead, he just flicked off the light, shut the door, and went with Jack down the hall.

()()()()()

The first thing Ty looked at when they walked into the room where Marion lay was the horse painting on the wall. Their legs obscured by puffs of dust, five golden mustangs galloped through a desert dotted with brush. He looked down when he remembered that Marion and Amy had always talked about going to Nevada or Wyoming to see wild horses for Amy's sixteenth birthday.

The second thing Ty looked at was the window, where he glanced as Jack shuffled to the middle of the room, where the bed was. For a split second, he was surprised to see that it was still light outside, but then he remembered that it was June and the sun didn't set until around 8:30. It was starting to set, though, casting rays through puffy orange, pink, and deep blue clouds. Marion had adored sunsets; when there was a particularly pretty one, it would take twice as long to bring the horses in for the night because she'd keep stopping to stare and grin at the sky.

The third thing Ty looked at was Jack, who clutched Marion's hand and stared at her face. Jack's own eyes and mouth drooped heavily, though at one point, his eyebrows narrowed pensively. Ty wondered what he was remembering or trying to figure out.

The fourth thing Ty looked at was Marion. And then he looked away, but not before the image of her chalk-white, bruise-stained face flashed into his mind.

 _She's really dead._ At the exact moment he felt his breathing take a turn toward panic again, he heard dry sobs that weren't his own.

Ty looked at Jack again. One hand covered his eyes, and his whole body, from his unsteady legs to his bowed shoulders, shook.

Just as Ty was about to go over and put an arm around Jack's quaking shoulders, the door burst open. "Grandpa!"

Still dressed in a navy suit that made Ty wonder where she'd been when she got the call, Lou practically flew into the room but stopped dead a few feet from the bed. Eyes wide, she pressed a fist to her mouth and gripped her forearm with her other hand, but after a moment her face twisted in grief and tears. His own face still contorted, Jack stepped forward on shaky legs, and Lou rushed into his open arms and buried her face against his shoulder.

Over Lou's muffled sobs, Ty heard Jack's hoarse voice. "Shhh. I'm here, Lou. I'm here."

Suddenly Ty felt like he shouldn't be there. After backing quietly out of the room, he shut the door silently behind him.

He strode down the hallway, though it briefly occurred to him that he didn't know where to go. As he passed the nurse's station, the image of Marion's too-pale, bruised face flashed into his mind. He felt his mouth tighten and decided to head for the cafeteria. At the end of the hallway, he checked the map on the wall, pushed through the doors, and tried not to think about anything except which way to turn and which stairs to take.

()()()()()

When Ty came back upstairs with two Styrofoam cups, Lou was sitting in the waiting room, studying a notepad in her lap.

"Hey, Lou?" She glanced up, and he held out one of the cups and noticed that although her eyes were the tiniest bit glassy, her face wore its usual cool, collected expression.

"Thank you, but no. I don't need anything else to keep me up tonight."

"I know. It's chamomile tea." Amy had mentioned once that Lou liked the stuff. _"It tastes so boring."_ He hid a smile.

"Oh. All right. Thank you." As she accepted a cup, opened the lid, and shook in a pack of sugar and two little containers of Half & Half, she said, "I'm waiting to hear back from Moser Funeral Home and Bright View Cemetery about availability, but I think we should have one viewing Friday afternoon and another Saturday morning, with the funeral on Saturday afternoon. You'll be an usher and a pallbearer, of course. Grandpa said that Scott Trewin should be one and that we should ask Scott's brother as well."

"Matt." _Do Matt and Scott even know?_

Lou nodded and scribbled on the notepad. "Grandpa said that he would be one as well, but I don't think he should have to do that."

" _No parent should have to bury their child"_ flitted through Ty's mind. Still, he said, "If he wants to, though . . . " Lou hadn't been around much, but she had to know how stubborn Jack could be.

"Yes, of course. However, I should still come up with three more options." Taking a drink from her Styrofoam cup, Lou consulted the notepad again. "Now, I need to decide on flowers."

As Lou stared out into space and rapped her mechanical pencil against the side of her mouth, Ty wondered if he should say something. He wasn't sure if Lou actually wanted suggestions, but he knew exactly what kind of flowers Marion would want.

Finally, Lou gave a short, self-conscious laugh. "I'm afraid I'm drawing a blank. Do you have any ideas?" She tilted her head back to sip more tea, but not before Ty caught the way her eyes briefly narrowed. "D'you have any more creamer?"

Ty handed her another container of Half & Half, but he didn't think she'd been scowling at the tea. "She loved white lilies."

Lou raised her eyebrows. "White? Not something more . . . colorful?"

He breathed a laugh and turned up a corner of his mouth. "I know. She swore they smelled better than any other flower, even other lilies."

Lou tapped the notepad and smiled faintly. "All right then. White lilies."

They lapsed into silence, interrupted only when Lou said, "Food for the reception" under her breath. Ty glanced up at the news playing on the television in the corner. A Latina woman in a dark purple dress was talking about the accidents caused by the severe thunderstorms that had hit the area. Feeling a pang in his gut, he briefly wondered when Marion's death would be in the news.

He looked back at Lou, who was writing furiously but neatly. As he listened to her pencil scratch across the paper, he debated heading back to the cafeteria to get another coffee for Jack. The one he'd bought was probably lukewarm by now. But then, Jack would drink coffee at any temperature—except iced. "Hey, where's Jack?"

"I suppose he's still with Amy," Lou said, glancing up from the notepad. "You should go see her when he's done."

He set the two remaining containers of Half & Half, which had toppled over when he'd carried the tray up the stairs, upright. "Did she show any sign of waking up?"

"I don't know. I haven't been to seen her yet."

The edge in Lou's tone made him hesitate to ask the question that kept repeating itself in his mind. _Is she going to be able to go to the funeral?_

"I hope she wakes up before Friday." The edge in her voice remained, but Ty heard the brittleness behind it, and he suddenly realized that if that edge weren't there, Lou wouldn't be able to speak at all. "However—" she shrugged—"we still have to proceed with the plans. Regardless. Time won't stop for us, after all."

"But—" Ty broke off when Jack strode up. Jack looked much the same as he had earlier—shoulders drooping, face worn—but Ty thought he could see a little of his usual determination in the tightness of his jaw.

"I called Glen and Sylvia," Jack said, voice raspy. He dropped into the chair next to Ty. "They'll be in town early Thursday. Sylvia offered to cook for the reception."

Lou nodded once and wrote something on her list. "Good. That takes care of that."

So they really were going to have the funeral on Saturday, with or without Amy. Ty handed Jack the coffee cup, and Jack accepted it with a faint smile that couldn't reach his eyes, which sagged with grief and exhaustion. Ty waited until Jack had finished chugging what had to be half of the black coffee before asking, "How's Amy?"

Jack set his coffee on the arm of the chair and his hat on his lap. "Still unconscious. But all those lines and beeps on the monitors seemed normal."

Lou leveled the eraser end of her pencil at Ty. "You should go see her." She swung the pencil from him to Jack. "I need to confirm some details about the funeral with you."

As Ty stood to leave, Jack pointed to the door at the end of the hallway. "You'll want to go through that door and go up three sets of stairs."

Lou arched her eyebrows. "He could also take the elevator, Grandpa."

Ty shot both of them a half-smile. "It's okay. I'll walk." Being stuck in a metal box with strangers didn't sound like the most fun thing right now.

Jack swallowed more coffee. "Right. You'll have to talk to one of those nurses at the desk on that floor—let them know you're there to see Amy—but she's in Room 408."

"Thanks." Ty headed for the door but stopped when Lou called after him.

"Don't forget to talk to her. Doctors always say talking to coma patients can help wake them up more quickly."

 _Coma patients._ Reflect how calmly Lou had said the words, despite the fact that her sister was one of them, he nodded. When he reached the door, he looked back at Jack and Lou huddled over the notepad. He heard Lou say, "White lilies? Really?" and saw Jack nod and refused to let himself feel alone.

()()()()()

When Ty saw Amy's face, he felt something inside him, something that he didn't know had been clenched, unclench. She didn't look pale ( _Not like Marion_ ), but Ty wondered if that was from the dim lighting rather than her actual color. The only light in the room came from two lamps at either side of Amy's bed. His thoughts flashed to an ugly gold lamp at his grandparents' house, one that went from off to dim to bright depending on how many times someone tapped the bar below the socket. But then he focused on Amy.

She had purple-green bruises on her forehead and a jagged, crusty cut on the right side of her chin. But her face was calm, and her breathing was steady, and Ty found his thoughts matching the rhythm of the beeps on the heart monitor. _She's okay. She's okay. She's okay._

A chair sat crookedly next to the right side of her bed. _Jack must've moved it there._ Ty sat and stared at Amy's motionless face and felt his throat clog.

He really did want to talk to her, not just because he suspected that Lou would ask if he had but because he would do anything to help Amy wake up. But he couldn't push words past the pain that had collected in his throat. He took her hand, careful of the IV line taped to the back, felt his mouth twitch, and blinked over and over again.

Finally, he managed a whisper. "Hey, it's me. It's Ty." He squeezed her hand and swallowed. "Look, I know that once you do wake up, you probably aren't going to want to stay awake. But I'm going to be right here with you. I promise." He heard his voice break on the last syllable, and he tightened his fingers around Amy's hand, closed his eyes, and let himself cry.

()()()()()

Even though Jack had told Ty to take his room, Ty spread sheets on the couch after gathering up towels, washcloths, and extra blankets for the guest room. Lying in the pitch dark living room with his head against a worn pillow and wondering absently if there was milk in the refrigerator, he felt a deep ache start in his chest.

No, he realized, it hadn't just started. It had been there for several long, awful hours, ever since he'd heard about Marion—no, ever since they'd gotten to the hospital—no, ever since they'd gone back to Heartland after that useless drive. Closing his eyes against the pain, Ty felt pieces of a song he'd tried to remember on that ride fall into place. He lay awake for a long time with the chorus circling in his mind.

" _Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain. / I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. / I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend. / But I always thought that I'd see you again."_


	6. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 2

"Across the sea / The space between / Everything you think you know / The things you keep / And bury deep / Underneath the melting snow / I'll follow." – Audrey Assad

 **Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 2**

 _August 2005_

It was one of those moments when the pain was so intense that Amy couldn't feel anything else—not the shavings beneath her legs, not the wooden wall at her back, not Copper's forelock as she twisted the chestnut hairs and then smoothed them out against his forehead. She stopped for a moment, letting her hand fall limp. She stared at her knees before closing her eyes against the ache in her chest.

Somehow she managed a half-smile when Copper nudged her hand. She stroked his face, starting at his ears and working her way down to his muzzle. He didn't even flinch; he just stared at her with solemn dark eyes—eyes full of such understanding that she felt a lump burn in her throat.

She rested a hand against her forehead as the memories came. _"He let me touch his ears today, Amy! He wouldn't let me do that two days ago." "There, now, you try putting the halter on him." "That's a good boy, Copper."_

"Amy?"

She blinked and looked up to see Ty leaning over the stall door. She pushed her hair out of her face, in the process wiping any moisture from beneath her eyes. "I, uh—" her voice sounded hoarse, and she cleared her throat—"I thought you'd gone home already."

"I was about to leave." His eyes narrowed. "You okay?"

Her gaze flickered up to him before coming back to Copper. "Well, he's leaving tomorrow, so I—I just wanted to spend some time with him before. . . " She looked back up at Ty and gave a tiny shrug.

Ty's eyes were sympathetic, but his words were practical. "Amy, you know how it goes."

"I know," Amy said quickly, looking down at her jeans and brushing shavings off of them.

Crouching beside Copper, Ty rubbed the horse's forehead and smiled over at Amy. "He's totally better. He has to leave so that we can help a horse that needs it."

Amy nodded and tried to swallow. But then the pain swelled, making the tears spill over. She buried her face in Copper's mane and wrapped her arms around the horse's neck.

"Hey!" As tears coursed down her cheeks and dampened the rough strands of horsehair in her face, she sensed Ty kneel beside her. "Amy, what's wrong?"

"I don't want him to go! He was the last horse I saw Mom work with! On the day of the accident." She felt herself shaking now, and she couldn't stop crying. "And now I have to let him go!"

He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Shhhh."

"I just never thought I'd have to let go of so much," she said hoarsely. Ty wrapped his arms around her as she cried. When she finally let go of Copper to hug him back, she held on with all her might.


	7. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 3

"Across the sea / The space between / Everything you think you know / The things you keep / And bury deep / Underneath the melting snow / I'll follow." – Audrey Assad

 **Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 3**

 _March 2006_

On the morning of what would have been—should have been—Mom's birthday, Amy lay in bed and stared at her curtains, watching for faint gray light to filter through them. She let her burning eyes flutter shut for half a second before images from her nightmares—a bay horse's terrified rolling eyes, windshield wipers slashing frantically at the flooding rain, and a million green leaves falling toward her—flashed through her mind.

Gasping, she shot up in bed. She got up, her bare feet chilly on the wooden floorboards, and walked to the window. Holding back a curtain with one hand, she folded her other arm and stared out at the yard as a weight settled across her chest.

A year ago today, it had been cold and drizzly, but they'd gone on that trail ride anyway. This morning, the grass was white with frost and the sun peered over the horizon. After letting the curtain fall back into place, Amy got dressed in a t-shirt, sweater, jeans, and thick socks and headed for the coffee pot.

Lou was already in the kitchen, where she leaned against the sink and nursed her own mug. "You look terrible."

Amy heard the concern in Lou's voice but shot her a look anyway as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Thanks."

Lou huffed and turned the faucet on. "You look like you didn't sleep very well." She scrubbed her mug with a frothy sponge.

"I didn't." Sipping her coffee, Amy lifted her eyes to Lou's face. Seeing a tinge of red in and around Lou's blue eyes, she felt some of her irritation dissolve. "You don't look like you got much sleep, either."

Lou shook her head, messy blonde bob shivering. "I had too much on my mind."

Amy nodded. "Me too." She hadn't had that nightmare for months. Why couldn't she have dreamed about Mom's last birthday instead? Feeling a stab of pain somewhere in her chest, she grimaced into her mug. _Mom's birthday last year_. That sounded a bit better.

Setting her mug in the drying rack, Lou turned to Amy. "Do you know—I don't think I spent Mom's birthday with her since before you moved here." Lou turned away and walked to the fridge, but not before Amy spotted the glassiness in her eyes.

Amy set her mug on the counter. "Well, until last year, you were in school."

Lou pulled a grapefruit from the bottom drawer. "I know."

"And you did call every year." Amy remembered how, after the annual birthday call a few years ago, Mom had confessed she'd hoped Lou would surprise her and be waiting outside on the farmhouse porch. _"But I know that was silly. She's doing so well in school, and I know she can't afford to miss even a few days."_ She pictured the brightness in Mom's eyes—mostly her usual optimism but partly an undeniable, if momentary, sadness.

"I know." Lou stabbed the grapefruit with her spoon and shot juice all over the counter. Muttering under her breath, she grabbed Windex from under the sink. Amy handed her a paper towel. "Thanks." After wiping up the grapefruit juice and washing her hands, Lou held out the other half of the grapefruit and raised her eyebrows.

"No, thanks." Amy opened the lid to the cracked green jar that was supposed to be used for cookies but tended to be used for any baked goods. "Do we have any of those apple streusel muffins left?"

Lou carried her grapefruit halves to the table. "Check the freezer."

A quick glance into the impeccably organized freezer told Amy all she needed to know. "We're out." The weight on her chest settled itself over her shoulders too, and she found herself blinking back irrational tears as she remembered them all—Grandpa, Ty, Mom, and herself— sitting around the kitchen table last year eating those muffins while Grandpa and Mom cheerfully argued about whether they should still go on a trail ride even though it was disgustingly cold and wet outside. Ever since she could remember, they'd _always_ had those muffins today; they were Mom's favorite—

Lou's voice cut through her memories. "There's cereal. Honey Nut Cheerios, I believe."

Amy shook her head and joined Lou at the table. "No, thanks." Staring down at her mug, she drew in a long breath and let it out slowly.

Lou swallowed a piece of grapefruit and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "What did you do last year for Mom's birthday?"

Amy swallowed some more coffee. "Mom, Grandpa, Ty, and I went on a trail ride once I got home from school, like always." She took a breath. "Actually, Ty and I are planning to go for a trail ride this afternoon. We wanted to . . . kind of celebrate, I guess—continue the tradition. Do you want to come with us? I'm sure I can find a really gentle horse for you to ride." Nothing today would be the same as last year, but maybe if her whole family went on the trail ride, it would help a little.

"Ahh, well." Lou bent to dig more grapefruit from the peel, but Amy could see her face flush. "Scott and I are planning to take flowers to the cemetery. So I don't think so. But thank you."

 _I screwed that one up, didn't I?_ "I mean, w—we could do something else. All of us. Together." But at the thought of not going on a trail ride at all today, Amy felt the weight of sadness spread and pull down her eyes and mouth so that it took all her effort to look over at Lou.

With a tight smile, Lou stood to throw away the grapefruit peels. "Don't let me keep you from going. We can do something together tonight. Perhaps go through the photo albums?"

Amy nodded and gave Lou a small smile. "Yeah. That would be good."

After stepping into her boots and shrugging on her coat, she headed outside. Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she took a deep breath of the sharply cold air and let it out in a puff. Mom would have stepped onto the porch and grinned at way the yard looked: silvery frost on the bright green grass, brown-gray trees reaching up to the pale blue sky. Pursing her lips and swallowing past the dull ache in her throat, Amy trudged to the barn.

"Morning," Grandpa called, leaving Jasmine's stall.

"Morning, Grandpa." Walking past the stalls, Amy noted how many of the horses were already nose-deep in feed. "Wow, how long have you been out here?"

"Oh, a while. I took a walk and watched the sun rise. Sure is pretty out there." He joined her at the grain bin, where they filled the last two buckets. "Then I figured I'd give you a hand and get started on feeding these horses." He shut the lid to the grain bin and looked at her. "How're you doing?"

Amy shrugged. Looking up at him, she spoke softly. "I couldn't stop having nightmares last night." Her eyes stung, and she tried to swallow the pain in her throat.

"Honey . . . " Grandpa reached out for her, and she leaned in and let the slightly scratchy warmth of his plaid flannel shirt comfort her. "You gonna be all right at school today? You can stay home if you want."

She smiled weakly. "I can't. I have a test." One side of Grandpa's mustache quirked sympathetically, and she sighed and stepped away to carry Sundance's bucket to his stall. "But at least we'll go for that ride when I get home. Which horse do you think you'll take?"

Grandpa hefted a bale of hay. "Well, I was gonna spend the afternoon with Lou. But you and Ty should still go on that ride."

Amy put her hands on top of Sundance's stall door. "I—I thought Lou was going to the cemetery with Scott."

"Yeah, this morning. But Scott's gotta go on calls this afternoon, so I told her I'd help her clean your mom's room."

Amy's eyes shot to Grandpa's face. "Don't let her get rid of anything. There's no way she's forgotten about those clothes I convinced her to store in the attic for now."

Grandpa stepped over to Sundance's stall. "Okay, okay, calm down. Lou didn't say anything about getting rid of anything."

"That doesn't mean she's not planning to!" Amy raked a hand through her hair. "It would be just like her to get rid of Mom's stuff on her birthday."

Grandpa's bushy eyebrows lifted. "Did you hear anything that I just said? She wants to _clean_ your mom's room, which I assumed will involve dust rags and a vacuum, not garbage bags."

"I guess." Amy let her hand fall from her hair and sighed. "I just . . . I guess . . . I don't know."

Grandpa looked at her, patience softening the lines around his eyebrows. Amy shut Sundance's stall door and took a breath. "I guess I just wanted us all to be together today, like we were last year. I mean, sort of like we were last year." She pressed her lips together and, blinking hard, stared out at the yard. "Even though nothing's the same," she said shakily.

Grandpa placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "I know it's hard. But we've all gotta figure out how to get through this day—how to feel close to your mom the best we can."

Amy nodded and smiled weakly at him. "Yeah." She drew a breath and let it out as a short sigh. "I guess I'm going to work with Maddison before the bus gets here," she said, heading for the stall where the light bay Hanoverian peered over the door.

"D'you need a hand with him?" Grandpa nodded at Maddison.

Amy glanced up at him in faint surprise. Grandpa helped a lot with the barn chores, but he tended to leave working with the horses to Amy, Ty, and Ben. "Sure, if you want. Could you drive the trailer down by the round pen?"

"Yeah, I can do that." He dug the truck keys out of his pocket.

"Thanks." Straightening Maddison's black forelock, Amy glanced down the driveway and felt worry clench her stomach. "Hey—where's Ty?" She didn't think he'd taken today off—he would've told her last night, it was already Ben's day off, and, more importantly, she knew Ty hadn't forgotten what day it was—but he was usually at Heartland by now.

Grandpa turned back at the barn doorway. "He's running some errands for me in town. He'll be here soon."

Relief washed away her anxiety. "Good." She couldn't take the thought of not seeing him today—of having to go on the trail ride by herself—of having one more thing be different from last year. Letting out a breath, she clipped on Maddison's lead rope, rubbed the star on his forehead, and led him outside.

* * *

Jogging along the edge of the round pen, Amy glanced over her shoulder and grinned. Maddison trotted right behind her, his soft nose almost touching her back. She jogged around a few more times, and he stayed at her shoulder. When she skidded to a stop before changing directions, he turned and followed in an instant.

Amy could have totally lost herself in the steady drum of hoof beats—the thud of her own boots hitting the packed dirt—the puff of Maddison's breath on her shoulders—the sheer exhilaration of being connected to a horse with nothing tangible between them—but she knew she needed to make more progress before the bus came. So after a few more rounds, she nodded at Grandpa, who'd been leaning on a rail and watching, but kept Maddison going.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Grandpa swinging the gate open. She ran for the opening just as it was wide enough for a horse, and Maddison trotted through a moment later. She headed right for the trailer, which sat on the dirt path between the round pen and the barn, but she knew Maddison wasn't following. The space behind her felt empty and silent and, sure enough, when she stopped and turned around, he'd halted right outside the round pen.

"Hey, it's all right," Amy said softly, stepping toward Maddison and taking in the tension that widened his eyes and flared his nostrils and angled his entire body, from hooves to ears, away from the trailer. "Hey. Whoa. Whoa. You're okay." She slowly lifted her hand to his face. At first, he flinched when she touched his forehead, but then he glanced down at her and huffed. "You're okay."

Now that his focus was on her instead of on the trailer, Maddison relaxed at least to the point that he wasn't frozen. Huffing again, he lowered his head and shook himself from nose to tail.

Amy gave a short laugh. "See, you're okay. Did I go too fast for you? It's all right. We'll just stay right here for now." She ran her fingers in light circles across Maddison's face.

Grandpa ambled up and spoke softly, an apologetic look in his eyes. "Amy, your bus should be here in a minute. I'm gonna have to move the trailer back."

As Amy did T-touch across Maddison's face and neck, she felt disappointment settle in her gut and twist her mouth. So much for making progress this morning. She let out a sigh. "That's fine."

"You all right?"

She glanced over her shoulder but kept rubbing Maddison. "I don't know what to do with him, Grandpa. He loves to move. He flies over the jumps, and whenever he's in the paddock, he canters around for fun and tries to get the other horses to join him. You've seen him." At Grandpa's nod, she continued, "I thought if I kept him moving—kept him focused on his favorite thing—he'd just, I don't know, follow me right past the trailer and I'd be able to get him closer and closer to it til he just followed me in there." She glanced back at Maddison and felt some of her frustration fizzle when she saw how relaxed he was. He looked so goofy standing there with his lower lip drooping.

"That might be. It's just gonna take more time." Grandpa squeezed her shoulder. "I know you'll figure it out." The shriek and whoosh of brakes drew their attention to the bottom of the driveway, where the bus waited. "Here, let me take him." He clipped Maddison's lead rope to his halter.

With another sigh, Amy walked with them to the barn to pick up her backpack. "Sorry I made you drive the trailer around and stand there for nothing."

Grandpa picked up a brush from a grooming kit. "Hey now. It was far from nothing. You let me do exactly what I wanted to do today."

Amy picked up her backpack from where it leaned against the barn door and shrugged it on. "Really?"

"Amy, watching you work, well . . . " Grandpa's voice grew even scratchier than usual. "You're so much like your mom."

Seeing the mist in his blue eyes, Amy offered him a shaky smile and stepped forward to give him a hug. The honk of a bus horn traveled up the driveway, and she pulled away. "I have to go. See you later." She jogged down the driveway and made it to the bus just in time.

* * *

When the bus dropped her off at Heartland that afternoon, Amy sprinted up the driveway. The sooner she got away from anything related to school, the better.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Sundance and Maddison tacked up and waiting outside the barn. "You ready to go?" she called to Ty, who was stuffing something into Maddison's saddlebag.

"Yeah. D'you want to go up to the house and change first?"

"Nope." Amy ducked inside the barn, shrugged off her sweater, and dumped it and her backpack by the grain bin. "I am not going inside that house until I have to. I don't want to see how many bags for Goodwill are outside Mom's room." She put her foot in Sundance's stirrup and pulled herself up.

Ty looked up from adjusting Maddison's saddlebag and raised his eyebrows. "I was up at the house a little while ago, and I didn't see any bags. I just heard vacuuming."

Amy pursed her lips and shook her head. "I'm still going to check all of Mom's stuff later."

Ty breathed a laugh and nudged Maddison forward. "It's really nice out today."

"Yeah," Amy said absently, eyes scanning the tree branches fuzzy with green buds. "I still would've gone if the weather was gross, though." Sundance leaned down to try to snag some grass, but she pulled his head back up and kicked him forward.

They turned the horses onto the path leading up Clairdale Ridge and lapsed into silence. Amy was faintly aware of blue above her and bits of green and brown all around her, but she kept picturing gray and black and deep brown. Despite the warmth beating on her cheeks and through her t-shirt, she shivered, remembering the rain that had misted her face and made Mom's hair frizz beneath her hat. Gritting her teeth, Amy stared down at the black and gold of Sundance' mane and neck.

At least that was the same. She'd ridden Sundance last year—the first and only year he'd gone on Mom's birthday ride. Amy almost laughed when she remembered how grumpy he'd been by the end of the ride, gold coat turned dull brown with rain, glaring at her from beneath his dripping black forelock.

But the laugh couldn't make it past the ache in her throat that came from the absolute worst contrast: the space beside her was so _empty_. At this point, when the path widened enough for two horses, Mom would always ride next to her. Yes, Amy had been on plenty of trail rides since . . . since the accident, but this was different. Mom was _supposed_ to be here, just like she was _supposed_ to be here on Thanksgiving and Christmas and all those other stupid holidays that were all about _family_ —

"Hey, what's going on?"

Amy glanced to the space beside her, now filled with a watery blur of brown and blue and bay and black. She blinked several times, bringing Ty and Maddison into focus, and tried to swallow. When she managed to force words past the ache in her throat, they came out hoarse and quavering. "I miss her so much, Ty. Nothing's the same without her here."

Her vision had cleared enough that she could see the concern on Ty's face. "I know. I miss her, too."

Pressing her lips together, Amy nodded at him. As Ty leaned over and squeezed her shoulder, she caught the sadness in his eyes. Guilt flashed in her chest. He was so quiet and so intent on helping other people that it was easy to forget he had feelings of his own. She wished she knew how to be there for him.

As they neared the turn in the trail that would lead them uphill, she impulsively reached out and caught Ty's hand, linking her fingers with his. He looked at her, the tiniest lift of his eyebrows betraying his surprise, but said nothing. As they rode like that the rest of the way up the mountain, the grief that still weighed down Amy's shoulders eased the slightest bit. Amy glanced over at Ty's inscrutable face and hoped he felt at least a little better, too.

Sitting cross-legged at the top of Clairdale Ridge, Amy leaned back on her hands and let the sun warm her face and the wind brush her hair. Behind her, she could hear the creak of leather saddles as Sundance and Maddison grazed. Grass swished and she sensed Ty sitting down next to her.

She opened her eyes to see him holding a brown paper bag. "What have you got there?" He offered the bag to her, and she opened it and peered inside. "Muffins?"

He half-smiled. "Apple streusel."

Amy felt herself tear up again, but she managed a warm smile. "Thank you."

She tried to eat hers carefully, holding her muffin over the plastic wrap. "These taste just like Grandpa's," she said around a mouthful of cinnamon and apple topping.

"They are. He gave me some extra to take home once, and they were all still in the freezer." He took her crumpled plastic wrap and tossed it with his own inside the brown paper bag. A grin teased a corner of his mouth. "You've got cinnamon on your face."

Amy pursed her lips. "That always happens when I eat these." She scrubbed at the corners of her mouth and inspected her fingers. "Did I get it?"

Ty shook his head, laughter showing in his eyes. "It's on your nose now."

Amy glared down at her nose as best as she could and rubbed it fiercely before raising her eyebrows at Ty. He nodded.

With a huff, Amy inspected his face. "How do you manage to eat these without getting crumbs everywhere?"

Ty just shrugged.

"Not fair." Amy uncrossed her legs, found even more crumbs speckling her jeans, and brushed them off onto the grass.

"You good now?" Ty asked as she resettled herself.

Amy shot him a fake glare. "Yes, thanks." Shaking her head, she smiled at him.

They sat quietly, Amy lying in the grass and Ty leaning against a tree, horses grazing and shifting behind them, wind shushing through the trees, birds twittering and swooping around and below them. Wispy clouds drifted across the sky.

"It's gorgeous up here," Amy said quietly from her spot lying in the grass. "Mom would've wanted her entire birthday dinner out here this year."

Ty breathed a laugh. "I bet Jack would've loved having to lug a cake up here."

Amy giggled, picturing Grandpa and Ty carefully riding horseback up the mountain and carrying a huge birthday cake between them. "He would've done it, though." She picked up a fallen leaf, leftover from winter, and twirled it around.

A grin twitched on Ty's lips. "He might've suggested birthday pancakes instead, though."

Amy flung the leaf away and turned to face him. "Oh yeah! That was two years ago, right?"

Ty nodded. "Her first birthday I was working here."

Amy shook her head and laughed. "And the last time she ever tried baking something that wasn't from a box. But Grandpa's pancakes were really good!"

"Even if the candles almost fell over and caught the syrup on fire."

Amy sat straight up. "Oh, my gosh, I'd forgotten about her fortieth birthday til just now!"

"What happened?"

"Well, Grandpa tried to convince her to just have a four candle and a zero candle—you know?—but she wanted forty regular birthday candles, so she did, but when we lit all the candles, it was like this giant ball of fire over the cake!"

"Oh, man!"

"And then the fire department showed up because Mom felt like it was more important to take a picture of the fireball and keep the icing from melting off the cake than it was to stop the smoke alarm from going off . . . "

* * *

They stayed on the ridge for about an hour, talking about Mom's birthdays, the wonderfully weird things she did every other day of the year, and the impact she'd had on both of them. After they got back to the yard and took care of Sundance and Maddison, they brought the rest of the horses in and gave them the evening feeds.

Walking with Ty down the yard, Amy studied him in the fading light. She'd done most of the talking that afternoon, and he'd just sat there and listened, but he never seemed to mind. Sometimes she felt like he understood better than anyone else—even Grandpa—how much Mom had meant to her. He was such a good friend.

When Ty stopped by his pickup, Amy looked over at him in surprise. "Aren't you staying for dinner?"

"I can't; I'm sorry. I have to pick up some groceries."

"Oh." Amy felt some of her sadness break through the veneer of happiness she'd felt since their afternoon on the ridge. She conjured up a smile. "Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning, then."

With a nod and a flickering smile, Ty dug out his keys. "See you."

Amy turned toward the porch but swung around and headed back to the truck "Hey, Ty?" He stopped, one hand on the open driver's side door, and raised his eyebrows. She took a breath. "Listen. Today was . . . it was a really hard day." She looked up at him and shrugged one shoulder. "Thanks for helping me get through it. You're a really good friend." Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

As she stepped back to let him leave, she saw him studying her face. Amy's memory flashed back to their kiss on Christmas and she felt her stomach flip, but he just gave her a small smile and said, "Of course."

Amy crossed her arms and stepped backward up the porch steps. "Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow!" Ty nodded, waved, and drove off.

Taking a deep breath, Amy headed inside the house, where the smell of marinara sauce filled her nose. Lou was draining pasta, steam fogging up the little window above the sink in the process. "You should have just enough time to shower before dinner's ready."

 _Which means I have just enough time to make sure you didn't get rid of Mom's stuff._ "Okay." After pulling off her boots, Amy walked straight through the kitchen and, with one backward glance over her shoulder, headed straight to Mom's room to inspect the damage.

Silently, she pushed the door open and flicked on the light. She blinked, adjusting to the brightness, and then blinked again as she realized that, on the surface, everything looked the same. The equine books on the shelf above the bed, the hairbrush and lotion on the dresser, the dried flowers in a bowl on the windowsill—everything was right where it had always been for as long as Amy could remember. The wood furniture shone, free of dust, and the bedspread smelled lightly of lavender.

Pursing her lips, Amy eased the door shut and headed upstairs. She felt a little bad for freaking out earlier, but not bad enough to dismiss her plan to check the basement and the attic (after Lou went to bed) for the bags of Mom's clothes they'd put there last fall.

* * *

The instant Amy sat down for dinner across the table from Lou, she couldn't shake the sense that Lou was hiding something. What, Amy didn't know, but as they ate dinner, cleaned up, and looked through old photo albums, the feeling in her gut grew stronger each time she noticed Lou glancing at her with a peculiar gleam in her blue eyes. _Yeah, I'm definitely checking the basement and the attic once she goes to bed._

After Grandpa had closed the last album and headed to the kitchen to put away the leftovers, Amy stood from the couch in front of the fireplace and stretched. "I'm going to go do night check."

Lou got up and straightened the pillows. "If you don't mind, when you come in, I could use your help packing."

Amy narrowed her eyes. "Packing? Oh, right, our trip to Ocanumba's this weekend, isn't it?"

Lou looked at her. "Seriously, Amy? This trip was your idea, and you don't even know when we're going. I'm shocked." Hands on her hips, she shook her head and smirked.

Amy found herself bristling despite the teasing smile on Lou's lips. "I've had a lot on my mind, okay?"

Lou's voice softened, but that gleam reappeared in her eyes. "Yes. I know." She sighed. "Yes, well, would you mind giving me a hand once you're finished?"

Amy raised her eyebrows and grabbed her coat from the rocking chair. "All right, if you really want me to."

* * *

Lou's door was open when Amy walked down the hall, but she knocked on the doorframe anyway.

Lou looked up from pulling neatly folded shirts out of her dresser. "Come in. And please shut the door. I don't want to keep Grandpa up."

"He's downstairs reading." Amy folded her arms and took in Lou's impeccably clean, tastefully decorated room.

"Yes, well." Lou opened another drawer and, pulling out two bras, held them out on her fingertips. "I wouldn't want him to walk by and see these." She nodded at the door. "So shut the door. Please."

Deciding that it wasn't worth pointing out that Grandpa regularly helped with laundry, Amy shut the door. She crossed her arms again and regarded Lou with raised eyebrows.

Lou carried more clothes over and nodded at the foot of the bed. "Sit."

"You're sure? The bed's still made."

Lou made a face at her. "Sit down."

Amy sighed and sat cross-legged on Lou's tan bedspread. Part of her wanted to grab a pillow and clutch it in her lap, but the other part didn't want to push her luck. "What's going on, Lou?"

"What do you mean?" Lou shot her an innocent look that failed to get rid of the gleam in her eyes before ducking to pull a suitcase from under the bed.

Amy nudged Lou's leg. "Well, why would the world's best packer need help from the world's worst packer?"

Lou's voice was muffled as she emerged from under the bed, suitcase in hand. "I am not the world's best packer." Standing up and holding the suitcase handle in both hands, she pressed her lips together and looked at Amy, the gleam in her eyes on in full force. In a rush, Lou swept her shirts out of the way, sat on the bed, and leaned forward with the suitcase in her lap. "So what's going on with you and Ty?"

Mouth agape, Amy stared at her and whispered furiously, "M—me and Ty? What are you talking about?"

Lou spoke in a low tone. "I wasn't trying to spy, I promise, but I happened to be at the kitchen window when he was leaving earlier, and I saw you kiss him."

Amy held out a hand in a one-armed shrug. "I just kissed him on the cheek. I wanted to thank him for helping me today."

Lou raised skeptical eyebrows. "You could've simply told him 'thank you' and given him a hug. Why the kiss?"

Amy made an exasperated noise. "I don't know . . . " _It just felt right_ were the words that sprang to mind, but she wasn't sure she wanted her sister to know that. Her brain raced back through the day—holding hands up Clairdale Ridge—and the last few months, all the way back to Christmas Day when he'd first kissed her by the back field. She felt her face turn red and the words leapt out of her mouth anyway. "It just felt right."

A smile burst on Lou's face. "Well then!" She leaned forward eagerly. "How long have you liked him?"

Amy took a breath, all set to deny feeling anything other than friendship toward Ty, but then she closed her mouth as it occurred to her that she and Lou were having a normal sister moment—staying up late, talking about boys. _Mom would have loved this._ She found herself saying, "I don't know; he's just . . . I mean, we've always been good friends, but . . . "Amy shifted on the foot of the bed. "He's really—been there for me this past year, you know?"

She looked down, trying to figure out how to bring up last November without making Lou feel completely terrible. "And when Grandpa got sick and you were—away and then Daybreak got sick—" she took a breath—"he was _there_. He helped me out so much." She looked up and gave Lou an impish grin. "And then he kissed me on Christmas."

The gleam in Lou's eyes sparked. "Was it a 'thank you' kiss on the cheek?"

"Not exactly." Amy felt her cheeks turn red. "But don't get too excited. We're still just friends."

"Yes, well, of course," Lou said, nodding. "But in a different way than you were before."

"What do you mean?" Amy felt anxiety gnaw at her stomach.

"Well, clearly you have feelings for him that extend beyond friendship. And you've kissed at least a few times; is that right?"

Amy's head spun. "Well, I mean, just once like that, but . . . "

"Amy, I'm not trying to freak you out! I'm simply pointing out that yes, you and Ty are—" Lou did air quotes—"'just friends,' but in a different sort of way. Your relationship has changed."

"Right." Amy blinked a few times and, propping her elbow on her knee, rested her head in her hand.

"Have the two of you talked about all of this?"

"I mean, yeah. Things were really weird for a while after Christmas. I didn't want things to change, and it took him a while to understand why, but then he agreed with me. We didn't want to risk losing our friendship."

"I see." Lou tilted her head. "Do you think you'll get together in the future?"

"I mean . . . we are together. Sort of. I mean, not in a boyfriend/girlfriend sort of way, but . . . "

"So you're not officially dating each other, but you won't date anybody else."

"I mean, I guess. We didn't really talk about that." Amy felt the worry in her stomach start to churn. "But he likes me. Why would he date somebody else?"

Lou placed a hand on Amy's arm. "Amy, like I said, I am not trying to freak you out. But I do think the two of you should talk about something other than horses for once and at least figure out where you are now."

"Yeah, okay." Amy took a deep breath, and the anxiety eased. "That sounds good."

"Good." Lou stood and deftly selected three t-shirts from the stack on her bed. After tucking those into her suitcase, she put the rest away and pulled out all of her pairs of jeans. "But whatever you two decide, remember that the end—or the beginning—of a relationship doesn't have to mean the end of a friendship."

Gnawing on her bottom lip, Amy watched Lou scrutinize a pair of black jeans. "Yeah, but, I mean, you and Carl aren't still friends."

Lou's eyebrows arched impossibly toward her hairline. " _Carl_ was a complete and total ass. Ty is not. Far from that, in fact. But Amy, please don't go into this thinking, 'Oh, my God, we're going to break up someday.' That'll just ruin everything right from the start. Enjoy yourselves."

Amy blinked, thinking of how much strain her fear had put on her and Ty's friendship when things had first started changing. She smiled at Lou. "You know, sometimes you make a lot of sense."

Lou scrunched her nose. "Thank you so much." She tucked the black jeans into her suitcase. "And please, for goodness' sake, if he asks you if you want to be his girlfriend, do not say, 'Okay, if you want me to be' or anything like that. Do not be like Rory and Dean. Well, more specifically, I suppose, do not be like Dean."

"Who? Okay, I take back what I said about you making a lot of sense sometimes."

Lou looked up from stuffing socks into a compartment on the outside of her suitcase. "You've never seen—never mind." She zipped the compartment shut and nodded toward the bedpost. "Hand me that jacket, please."

Amy plucked the jacket from the bedpost and held it out. "I also take back what I said about you being the world's best packer. At this rate, you won't be finished packing until midnight."

Lou just threw a pillow at her head.

* * *

For the second night in a row, Amy got hardly any sleep. She lay awake and stared at the shadowy Breyer Thoroughbred on her dresser and thought about what she would say if Ty did ask her to be his girlfriend.

Ty loved horses, Heartland, and her family. They worked so well together. He listened patiently, even when she took a while to figure out how to express herself. She couldn't imagine a better boyfriend.

So what was still holding her back? She couldn't figure it out. She knew they didn't have to be like all the other irritating couples she knew from school—all gross and cutesy and holding hands one minute and being paranoid and jealous and fighting over completely stupid stuff the next. And she knew Lou was right about not letting the fear of a future breakup ruin what they could enjoy now.

The realization that she felt more than friendship toward Ty had completely freaked her out at first. She'd never really had a crush on anybody before, and she'd never imagined having one on someone she'd only ever considered a best friend. But now she was comfortable with the way she felt around and toward him. She liked it when they were off by themselves and he'd kiss her on the forehead or she'd rest her head on his shoulder.

 _So . . . nothing. There's nothing holding me back._ Amy rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, feeling a rush of nervous excitement. _I want this. We'll make it work._

She rolled back over and resumed staring at the Breyer Thoroughbred. But what if Ty had changed his mind? He hadn't pulled away when she'd taken his hand or kissed his cheek. But what if he'd done those things entirely for her?

Letting out a sigh, Amy shut her eyes. All she could do was talk to him tomorrow—er, today.

* * *

Amy woke early, filled the enormous coffee Thermos to the top, and carried it with her to the barn to get as many of the morning chores done as possible. Ben was working today, which meant she and Ty would need to go for another trail ride if they were going to talk. So she filled buckets and mucked out stalls and managed to calm her nerves to an occasional flutter that only worked itself around her stomach if she paused and thought for a moment too long.

But the flutter came back in full force when she heard Ty's pickup pull into the yard. She took a deep breath and kept tacking up Sundance. She tried to convince herself she was just feeling this way because they hadn't talked yet.

 _That had better be true. I don't know if I can handle feeling this way all the time._ Where was that feeling of _rightness_ she'd had last night—this morning?

Ty strode into the barn and smiled at her. "Hey."

Oh, right. There it was. She smiled back. "Good morning."

Ty crossed his arms, looking around. "Wow, you've gotten a lot done already." He nodded at Sundance. "Trying to get a ride in before school?"

"Actually I was hoping you'd come with me." Amy took a breath. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Ty shot her a curious look but simply said, "Okay. I'll take Maddison again."

After he quickly tacked Maddison up and scrawled a note to Ben on the chalkboard, they ambled down the yard. "Hey, you okay with the shortcut to Teak's Hill?" Ty asked over his shoulder.

"That's fine." Their voices and the horses' hoofbeats echoed in the still morning air, and Amy decided to wait until they were completely in the woods before starting the conversation. As they cut behind the farmhouse and through the back field, Amy fought the urge to kick Sundance into a gallop and reach the wide dirt path in the woods as quickly as possible. The grass was slick with beads of dew, so she plodded along and tried to stay calm so that Sundance wouldn't sense her tension and break into a gallop all on his own.

The instant they entered the woods, Amy looked over at Ty. "So, can I talk to you about something?" Her voice sounded slightly breathless to her own ears.

Ty raised his eyebrows. "I thought that's why we went on this ride in the first place."

"Right." She breathed deeply. "Remember a couple months ago, after we—after Christmas, when I said I didn't want things to change?"

Ty nodded, a hint of expectancy in his eyes.

Amy leaned forward in her saddle as the path angled upward through the brush. "Well, whether I liked it—at first—or not, things did change. I mean, you felt it too, didn't you?"

Ty pulled Maddison's head away from some tree branches. "Yeah, definitely."

Amy shot him a tentative look. "You—you still feel that way, right?"

He gave her a warm smile. "Yeah, I do."

"Okay, good, because—because even though it was really weird for me at first to feel—" she flung out a hand—"this way about you, I've gotten used to it. Not in a 'Oh, well, I guess I'm used to this' sort of way. I mean it feels right. This—us—feels right. So I guess—what does that mean for us?"

Ty's eyes narrowed slightly and his tone was apologetic. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Amy ducked under a tree branch Ty did his best to hold out of her way. "I guess I mean—are we friends, are we more-than-friends, are we—?"

Ty ducked under the branch himself. "To be honest, I've thought of us as more than friends for a while."

"Okay," Amy said, nodding. "So . . . I guess what I'm trying to say is—could we be more than that, even, you think?" She looked over at him, hoping for at least his usual half-smile. But the full-fledged grin on his face took her breath away.

"I think we could be, yeah."

Amy felt a grin tug at her own lips. "So, just to be clear, we're boyfriend and girlfriend, right?"

"Sounds good to me." And in the middle of the trail in the middle of the woods, Ty stopped his horse, leaned over, and kissed her.

Seeing the complete happiness in his eyes when the pulled away, Amy knew this was the right thing for them. "Me too."

* * *

When they rode back into the yard from behind the farmhouse, Lou was standing on the porch with a cup of coffee. She caught Amy's eye and arched a pale eyebrow. Amy shot her a grin and a thumbs up, and Lou tightened her hands into gleeful fists. "Yes!" she mouthed.

Amy just laughed and looked over at Ty—her _boyfriend_ —and realized she couldn't stop smiling if she tried.

* * *

 _Thank you, everyone, for your patience as I wrote this chapter. It's the first full chapter I've written since publishing this story back in November. I have a full-time job as a college bookstore supervisor as well as a side job as a freelance editor, so it can be difficult to find the time—and the inspiration—to write. I will try to finish the next chapter more quickly than I did this one, but unfortunately I can't make any promises. But please rest assured that I do plan to continue writing this story. It has been in my head and my heart for years, and it needs to be written._

 _As always, a link to chapter commentary can be found on my profile._


	8. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 4

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 4**

 _July 2006_

As the blue pickup headed down the tree-and-pasture-lined road, seventies soft rock barely audible over the wind pouring in from the open windows, Amy pulled a strand of hair from her face and looked over at Ty. He'd been quiet ever since they'd left Heartland, but that was nothing new. He draped one hand on the open window and the other on the steering wheel as he looked straight ahead, green eyes scanning the road. Even his shoulders, which tended to unconsciously tense if he was stressed, were relaxed.

But Amy's gut told her something was up. As the scenery traded pines and fields for houses and stores, she asked, "Ty? Is everything okay?"

At the four-way stop, he turned onto a street with townhouses on either side. "Yeah. Why?"

Amy pursed her lips. "I don't know. You seem . . . nervous."

He breathed a laugh. "Do I?"

"I mean—" Amy shrugged. "You don't look nervous, but . . . "

Ty stopped the pickup at a large metal box of mail slots that reminded Amy of one of those wooden beehives. He looked at her and let out a sigh. "Listen, I'm not sure what I'm getting you into."

Amy shifted in her seat and narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean? This was my idea. I've been bugging you for weeks about meeting your family."

He shook his head. "I just want you to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?

Ty sighed again. "Look, this is what'll probably happen. Mom or I will introduce you to Lee, and then he'll probably ignore you for the rest of the time."

Amy half-shrugged and lifted her palm. "Okay. I wouldn't know how to talk to him about—what did you tell me he likes?—PlayStation games or baseball anyway. Or comic books."

Ty breathed a laugh and continued. "Mom's going to be really excited."

Amy nodded. "That sounds good."

Ty gave her a half smile. "She'll ask you all sorts of questions, but when something you say reminds her of something that's happened to her, she'll go off on these tangents. Sometimes they're really long."

Amy laughed. "I think I can handle that, especially if she tells stories about you." When Ty didn't give her the expected half-smile, she said, "What?"

Ty took a deep breath and reached for her hand. "I don't know what my dad's going to do. He might say something rude about horses or Heartland, or he might not say anything at all. I don't know."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "You know I've handled rude people who don't like Heartland before, right? Ashley. Val. Everyone who's ever told me, 'You know alternative therapies don't really work, right?'" She squeezed Ty's hand and looked into his eyes. "It's going to be fine!"

Nodding, Ty gave her a brief smile. "Yeah. I know."

Before he let go of her hand to put the truck back into drive, Amy caught one last glimpse of his eyes. The hint of uncertainty there had shifted away, though whether he genuinely felt better or had just regained enough composure to hide his nerves, she didn't know.

They drove past more rows of nondescript townhouses for less than a minute before Ty pulled into a parking space next to a tree planted in a strip of grass surrounded by concrete. "Dad must've gone somewhere," he said, and Amy could sense the faint relief beneath his casual tone.

"So this is your house." Amy took in the two-story townhouse with its dingy white vinyl siding, three concrete steps with a black metal railing leading up to a tiny porch and a faded red door, and plastic green pots filled with yellow flowers on either side of the door. "Those flowers are really pretty."

"Yeah. Mom likes to take care of flowers when she feels up to it." He picked up a sloshing metal watering can from beside the steps and poured the contents on the two pots. Hesitating at the door, he glanced back at Amy. "You ready?"

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Are you?"

He looked at her for a second. "Yeah." He reached for the doorknob, and they both jumped when the door jerked open from the inside.

Ty's mom was in the doorway, brown curls flying in her face and gauzy blue skirt swishing around her calves as if she'd run to open the door. "Oh, I'm so sorry—I'm so, so sorry!" she said, all breathless anxiety and worried green eyes.

Amy watched Ty's shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly as he asked, "What's going on?"

With a glance back into the house, she shut the door before lowering her voice and speaking with her hands in a constant flurry of motion. "We were going to go to the store this morning—we were on our way there—but your dad's car started clanking—remember when the old pickup broke down? It made the same sort of noise. No, you were probably too little to remember. But he pulled the car over, right there by the Dollar Tree, and turned it off and then it wouldn't turn back on." Ty's mom pushed a hand through her wavy brown hair and looked up at him helplessly.

"Hey, it's all right. It's a company car; I'm sure Paladin will fix it."

Ty's mom gave a few little nods. "He's in there on the phone with them." Her worried gaze lit on Amy. "Oh! You must be Amy. I'm so, so sorry."

Amy smiled as Ty's mom vigorously shook her hand. "It's okay! I'm really glad to meet you, Mrs. Baldwin. I'm sorry about your car."

Ty's mom took a deep breath and let it out with her next word. "Lily. Please call me Lily."

Amy smiled again. "All right. Lily."

The front door swung open again, and this time a narrow man with gray-speckled brown hair and a matching beard strode out, scowling in full force. _So that's Brad._

Lily turned to him, skirt twisting around her legs. "Oh! Are they going to be able to fix your car?"

"I don't know." Brad looked over at Ty. "I need you to drop me off at work. Then you can take your mom to the grocery store—it's your week. I'll call you when I'm done." Brad moved toward the porch steps but paused when he noticed Amy. "She can come if she wants."

Amy watched his brown eyes size her up—there was no other way to describe it—and while on the inside she felt herself shrink just a little, she conjured up an image of Mom, put on a bright smile, raised her chin, and met his gaze. "Sure, I'll come along."

Brad gave a brusque nod and walked past her to the truck. Amy glanced up at Ty and noticed the smallest bit of apprehension in his eyes, but the expression disappeared when he smiled at her.

Lily clapped her hands. "Well! I'll go get my purse—oh, and Lee!—and we'll be on our way." She threw a tentative smile over her shoulder and scurried inside.

Ty looked down at her. "You okay with this?"

Amy shrugged. "Sure, I don't mind." She glanced back at the truck before looking at Ty and speaking in a low voice. "It's not like we would've sat around chatting all afternoon with your dad anyway."

At the look of regret that passed through Ty's eyes, Amy wished she could snatch her words back. "I'm really sorry about that. I should've warned you that he can be sort of dismissive."

Amy put her hand on his arm. "Ty! It's not your fault."

Ty took a breath to speak, but just then, the front door opened and Lily spilled out of the house, pulling a tall, rail-thin boy with greasy black hair behind her. Her fingers were grasping his shirt sleeve—he wore a long-sleeved black shirt despite the sticky July heat—and as soon as they were on the porch, he flapped his arm away and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Okay, well! We're all set to go! Lee, introduce yourself to Amy!" Smiling brightly, Lily charged down the steps toward the truck.

Amy followed Ty and Lee down the steps and covertly studied Lee. His green eyes, currently scowling, were the only feature that marked him as Ty's brother. "Did you remember your game?" Ty asked him.

Lee held up a plastic box with _Test Drive: Off-Road Wide Open_ and an orange-brown Hummer on the front.

"I'll drop you off at the library before we go to Safeway."

Lee nodded. His bright green eyes angled toward Amy.

"Hi, I'm Amy." As soon as the words left her mouth, Amy realized how silly and awkward they sounded at that moment.

"Figured." His voice was caught somewhere between little boy and teenager. He yanked open the truck door, letting out a rush of cold air, climbed in, and slammed the door.

Amy raised her eyebrows at Ty. _Are you sure you two are related?_ There was no way Ty was ever a sullen thirteen-year-old.

The half-smile Ty gave her as he led the way to the other side of the truck had a definite apologetic tilt to it. "I'll sit in the middle."

* * *

Aside from the air conditioning blasting from every vent in the truck, the ride to Paladin was quiet. _And tense._ Amy felt it in her gut and saw it in the way Brad's fingers gripped the steering wheel—the way Lily didn't say a word but just wound a strand of hair around and around her finger. _Brad drives a company car, right? So can't Paladin just give him a new one?_ But seeing the telltale stiffness of Ty's shoulders, she knew she was missing something. If the solution were as simple as going and getting a new company car, he wouldn't be so (for him) visibly anxious.

He looked over at her, eyes still apologetic. She gave him a smile and reached for his hand. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she took it out with her other hand. Lou had texted her. **_How is it going so far?_**

Sending Ty a rueful look of her own, Amy extracted her hand from his and tapped a response. **_Ty's dad's car broke down so we r going to the grocery store_**

 ** _Oh, dear! If you're going to be at the grocery store, would you pick up a few things for me?_**

Amy clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh. At Ty's curious glance, she held up the phone for him again and rolled her eyes. He breathed a laugh and shook his head. After she texted back **_What do u want me 2 get?_** she recaptured Ty's hand. He gave her a half smile, and she felt warmth welling in her chest as the tension left his shoulders completely.

When Brad stopped the pickup, Amy looked out the window and found herself surrounded by asphalt and metal. They'd pulled into a huge parking lot filled with tractor-trailers and cabs and huge Quonset huts, all bearing the Paladin Transport logo.

Brad got out of the truck, and Amy realized she'd have to get out too so that Ty could drive. She unbuckled and slid out, a wave of hot air smacking into her. July sun sizzled off the blacktop and the metal trucks and buildings. She was glad when Ty got out a second later and she could hop back into her seat in the blissfully cold truck.

"Keep your phone on," Brad was saying as Ty reached the front of the truck. Amy narrowed her eyes; Ty always kept his phone on. But Ty just nodded, climbed into the driver's seat, and shut the door.

"You cool enough?" He looked at Lily first and then caught Amy's eye in the rearview mirror.

"Oh, I'm fine; I'm fine. It's so hot out there today." Lily peered around the side of her seat. "How are you, Amy?"

Amy smiled and nodded. "I'm good."

Lily smiled and nodded back. "Lee?"

Lee gave a one-armed shrug.

"Well, I guess we're all set then!" Lily said, still looking back at Amy, as Ty backed out of the parking space. "Oh, Amy, I'm so sorry about all of this. I was going to have cookies ready, and we were going to look through photo books."

 _So this is why Ty doesn't do lengthy apologies._ "It's okay! It's not your fault at all!"

Lily's brown eyes were doubtful. "You don't have to come to the grocery store with us. That won't be very interesting for you. Ty could drop you off at Heartland first, can't you, Ty?"

Ty's eyes, apologetic once more, met hers in the rearview mirror again. "Sure, if that's what you'd prefer. But I need to know pretty quickly so that we can get groceries before Dad's done."

"No, I'm happy to go with you!" Amy laughed and held up her phone. "Lou sent me that list, remember? I can't go home 'til I get that stuff!"

"Oh! Well, that's good, then." The skepticism mostly left Lily's expression. She stayed craned around the side of her seat, and Amy found herself thinking that that couldn't be comfortable. "Is Lou your sister?"

"Yes."

"Older than you?"

"Mmmhmm. Lou's twenty-four."

"And you're . . . sixteen?"

"Yes."

Lily nodded. "Sixteen and twenty-four." Finally she withdrew around her seat. "Eight years. That's quite an age difference, isn't it?" Apparently unable to talk to someone without looking that person in the face, she twisted around to face Amy again. Amy wished she'd sat in the middle. "What was it like being that far apart?"

"Ah, well . . . I guess it wasn't the age difference so much. Lou grew up in England; I grew up at Heartland."

Lily's eyes widened. "England! That's so far away! I've always wanted to visit there—all the history, the food, the tea, the pubs—well, maybe not the pubs. But the hills! And the rain! Oh, you must think I'm crazy!"

Amy smiled. "No! It's beautiful there. We went a few years ago when Lou graduated from Oxford."

Lily's smile grew wistful. "I bet it is. When did Lou move back to Heartland?"

Somehow Amy knew where this conversation would end up, and she felt her stomach clench. "Um, a little over a year ago."

"That must be nice. What made her move back?"

"Ah, my mom died." Amy swallowed the pain that suddenly gripped her throat.

"Oh! Oh, no! I'm so sorry. I knew that. Ty told me about the accident—you and your mom were rescuing that horse—I remember now. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." Amy managed a weak smile.

Lily nibbled on her bottom lip and shot Ty a glance. "You forgot. It happens," he said softly. Lily looked at Amy once more, brown eyes full of regret and self-reproach, before turning back around.

"I'm sorry," Ty mouthed in the rearview mirror as he pulled into the library parking lot. Amy shrugged and gave him a small smile before watching Lee hop out, shut the truck door with a clunk, and slink into the library.

Ty drove away, and Amy wondered why she felt odd before realizing, _He didn't say anything. None of them said anything to him._ Whenever she, Grandpa, or Lou left each other, they always said something like, "Bye," "See you later," "Be right back," or (in Lou's case) "I'll see you in [insert very specific amount of time here]." Even Ty always said goodbye in the evenings when he left Heartland—not just to Amy but always to Grandpa and Lou as well.

 _So why didn't he say anything to Lee?_ Amy wondered as they drove down the street to Safeway. Clearly Lee didn't like talking much. Maybe Ty didn't say anything so that Lee wouldn't have to say anything back. But she felt like Ty would've said something regardless. _Maybe I'm over-thinking this_. But she wanted to understand Ty's family, and she'd only been given so much to work with.

 _Ugh. Horses are so much easier than people_. She climbed out of the pickup and followed Ty and Lily through the parking lot, Ty pushing a cart he'd snagged from an empty parking space.

"Can I see the list?" Ty asked Lily as they walked through the first set of double doors and cool air washed over them.

Lily peered into her purse and moved a few things aside. "It was in here this morning!" She began to paw frantically through her purse. "Oh, it has to be here somewhere!" She looked at Ty with something akin to panic in her wide brown eyes." I'm so sorry! I promise it was in here this morning! But then the car broke down and—" She flung her hands into the air.

Realizing Lily sounded close to tears, Amy felt a pang. She watched as Ty raised his eyebrows and spoke calmly but firmly. "Hey, it's okay. We'll figure out what we need as we go. No big deal."

Lily bobbed her head. "Right. Okay." She closed her eyes and shook her head, and when she opened her eyes, her voice sounded stronger. "I think I can picture what was on the list."

Ty nodded. "Sounds good. Where to first?"

"Oh! Toothpaste!" Lily gestured grandly toward the personal care aisles.

Ty smiled at her and pushed the cart that way.

A basket looped over her arm, Amy followed them around the store, occasionally consulting Lou's list but mostly watching as Ty helped Lily remember everything they needed. Lily recalled most of what she'd written down, but when they reached the end of the last aisle, her brow furrowed in frustration. She pressed a hand to her cheek. "Oh, I can't remember for the life of me what those last few lines said."

"No big deal," Ty said again. He checked his phone. "Dad hasn't called yet, so we can just walk through the store and figure out what else we need."

Amy had long figured out that nervous, repeated head-bobbing was one of Lily's habits. "Right. Okay." Shooting Amy an anxious look, she trailed behind Ty as they walked through dairy.

"What are we missing from the fridge?" he asked.

"Cheese! Oh, how could I forget cheese?" Lily grabbed a package of off-brand cheese singles, which reminded Amy to select a brick of—she looked at Lou's texts—Cracker Barrel reduced fat mozzarella.

She shot Lily a smile and held up the cheese. "Lou would've killed me if I'd forgotten this, so it's good that we're going through the store again."

Lily gave her a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and Amy wondered if she'd done something wrong. She glanced over at Ty, but he was heading toward the next aisle. Amy sighed and looked at the list.

* * *

"You're sure that's everything?" Lily pushed a hand through her hair while Ty loaded their cartload of groceries onto the conveyor belt.

Ty grabbed a bag of grapes from the cart. "I can't think of anything else. Can you?"

"Noooo," Lily said, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Just then, Ty's phone rang, making Lily and Amy jump a little. They looked at each other and laughed.

"Hey." Ty kept loading groceries while he spoke. "Yes. Okay, we'll be there in fifteen minutes." He hung up. "Dad's done."

Lily nodded. "Okay. Okay. We got everything; I'm sure we did."

"Good," Ty said with an easy smile, putting the last of the groceries onto the belt. "How are you today?" he asked the cashier, an older black woman with smile lines etched all over her face.

"Just fine, honey. How are you?"

"Good, thanks."

"That's good. That'll be $73.57."

Until Ty pulled out his debit card and swiped it through the pin pad, Amy didn't realize she'd expected Lily to pay. But then her mind went back to something Brad had said before they'd left Ty's house: _It's your week._ Amy knew part of Ty's paycheck went toward his family's bills, but now she found herself wondering how many things he paid for—and how much money he had left afterward. With that thought, she felt even prouder that they weren't like other couples, constantly going out to eat or to the movies and spending money.

Amy smiled at the cashier and paid for her groceries, feeling vaguely self-conscious when the total for her eight items came to over $30. Thankfully Ty and Lily were waiting by a display of soda and beach chairs and chatting.

Ty smiled at her before glancing at his watch and addressing Lily. "We should make it to Paladin just in time."

"Oh, good!"

Clutching her two bags of groceries in one hand, Amy watched as Ty handed Lily bags to carry. He was careful, Amy noticed, not to rush her, but he did move quickly. Suddenly Amy realized why Ty was always early: the result of living with a dad who couldn't stand having to wait any longer than necessary.

 _I'm glad Mom wasn't like that._ Amy followed Lily and Ty to the truck. Grandpa was always on time, and he'd tried to lead by example and teach Mom to do the same. He'd gotten Mom to stop being extremely late, but somehow she'd had never managed to be less than five minutes late to everything except meeting with clients and working with horses. Amy was typically the same way.

Groceries balanced on her lap, Amy sat behind Lily. Lou still got impatient and snippy sometimes, but over the past year she'd come to understand that Heartland time was very different from New York time: horses (and Amy) couldn't be rushed.

When they got to the library, Lee was waiting on a bench and reading a comic book, a stack of video games and other comics on his lap. He climbed into the seat behind Ty and immediately resumed reading.

Ty backed out of the parking space. "Did they have the new one you were looking for?"

Lee held up a glossy comic book with Spiderman and a superhero Amy didn't recognize below the title _Civil War_. Part of her wanted to ask Lee who the man in the red, white, and blue costume was, but the other part of her knew he'd just find her question annoying—and then, she realized, she'd get annoyed with him, and she didn't want that.

An air of tense exhaustion hanging around her, Lily rested her head against the window. Ty drove silently, pushing the speed limit, Amy noticed, the entire way to Paladin. She would've bet anything that he took his eyes off the road every so often to check the clock. She found herself growing anxious, too, as a ball of worry burrowed in her stomach.

They pulled into the gigantic parking lot just as Brad came striding out of one of the metal hangars. Ty parked the pickup, and Amy thought about musical chairs and slid out of her seat so that Ty could sit in the middle and Brad could drive.

"Well?" Lily asked as soon as Brad climbed into the driver's seat, voice equal parts eagerness and anxiety.

Brad's face was red, and sweat plastered his shaggy gray-brown hair to his forehead, but his brown eyes were relaxed, and Amy felt the ball of worry dissolve. "Transmission's shot. Somehow the guy missed that when I took it in for inspection last week, so they're gonna fix it, no charge."

Lily clapped her hands. "Good! Oh, that's good. That's really, really great, honey."

Brad looked back at Ty. "They should have it fixed by tomorrow. I'll need you to take me back in the morning."

Ty nodded. "Sure."

Brad flicked on the radio, and as that one song about the horse with no name that she recognized from riding with Ty started to play, Amy wondered if Brad had forgotten to change the station. But then she realized that maybe he and Ty liked the same music—that maybe Ty liked the music that he did because he'd grown up riding in the car with his dad and listening to it. She smiled at the thought of little Ty, but then her stomach twisted a bit. Ty was nothing like his dad.

"Oh! There's the farmer's market!" Lily pointed out the window at a series of tents and stands. "I wonder if they have strawberries. I could make strawberry sauce for the ice cream we bought." As Brad wordlessly turned off to the farmer's market, Lily strained her seatbelt to turn around. "Have you ever been here, Amy? They have the best strawberries I've ever tasted."

"Not that I can remember. I love strawberries, though."

They all got out of the pickup and followed Lily as she twisted and turned among the stands. Somehow Lee walked and read his comic book without ever bumping into anyone or anything. It was late afternoon and the vendors were beginning to pack up their fruits and vegetables, so the market wasn't particularly crowded, but the street was narrow and lined with trees.

"Oh! There they are!" Lily pointed at a stand and dashed off, blue skirt swishing. Amy caught Brad shaking his head, but she could detect fondness in his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed Lily.

Walking after them, Amy felt Ty squeeze her shoulder and glanced up to see him smiling down at her. "This is a really pretty place. Do you all come here often?"

Ty shook his head. "Just for special occasions."

Amy smiled. "Is that what this is?"

Ty breathed a laugh. "The car's being repaired for free, so . . . " He shrugged.

"Right." Amy laughed back, a little embarrassed that she'd thought maybe it was a special occasion because it was the first time Ty's family had met her.

They came to the stall, where Lily was enthusiastically digging through a huge, flat basket of the biggest, brightest strawberries Amy had ever seen. "Oh, wow!"

"Aren't they gorgeous?" Lily breathed. "Here, Ty, help me fill the basket."

Amy found herself picking up and inspecting strawberries too. Not that she knew what to look for; they all just looked delicious. "Strawberries are my favorite."

Lily glanced up from her hunt, eyes bright. "Oh, Ty's too, ever since he was little."

"Yeah?" Amy shot Ty a smile.

"Oh, yes! Why, when he was about four—" she looked over at Brad, who was inspecting the price per pound signs—"do you remember? Strawberries were all I could get him to eat. Well, strawberries and macaroni."

As Lily told a story about the time Ty had smashed said strawberries and macaroni all over his face—"But not on the carpet! Never on the carpet. He was such a responsible little boy; he only messed up what was easy for me to clean—" Amy decided to gather up a basket of her own. Maybe Grandpa and Lou would make strawberry shortcake, and she could hang around the kitchen with them and sneak whipped cream and pieces of strawberry.

"Are we all set?" The vendor, a tall, round man with a thick brown beard and a circle of brown hair, crossed his arms over his broad chest and smiled at them.

"Yes, all set!" Lily beamed at him and set her container onto the scale. Suddenly she noticed Amy standing in line behind her. "Oh! You picked some too! They're too good to resist, aren't they? Set yours on up there."

Amy eyed the number on the scale. "Are you sure? I can pay for my own."

"No, no—"

"Let her pay for her own."

Amy looked over at Brad, who stood at the entrance to the tent, arms folded over his plaid shirt. He wouldn't meet her gaze but instead looked straight at Ty with an unreadable expression.

Ty drew in a breath and, taking Amy's elbow, spoke softly. "Do you mind?"

"No, not at all. I offered. I . . . " Sadness rushed up her throat. "It's fine. I've got it." She nodded at Lily and smiled reassuringly. "Thank you, though."

Lily nodded, lips compressed and eyes troubled, and accepted her change from the vendor. Gripping her container of strawberries in both hands, she headed to the entrance.

 _Stupid strawberries_. Amy smiled at the vendor, who smiled back with a mixture of pity and embarrassment, and paid. Swallowing hard, she followed Ty out.

* * *

The radio was the only sound on the way back to Ty's house. They'd just passed the community mailbox when another song Amy recognized came on. _"Just call out my name / and you know wherever I am / I'll come running."_

What was Brad thinking when he heard lyrics like that? Did he realize what he had in Ty—a son who would help him out even though he deserved none of it? _They're family, and that's what families do_ flitted through her mind, but Amy slapped the thought away. Her sweet, kind boyfriend didn't deserve to be treated like crap.

Balancing her groceries and those stupid strawberries on her lap, she reached for Ty's hand and squeezed. A surprised but appreciative half-smile flickered on his lips, and Amy felt her anger simmer down. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and when he kissed the top of her head Amy felt that warmth well in her chest—a warmth, she suddenly knew, that ran deeper than any of the feelings she'd had for him before. _I love you._ But she wasn't going to say that now. Not with his family in the car.

When Brad pulled up to the house, Ty said, "Amy and I need to get back to Heartland. Do you need me to fix dinner tonight?"

"No, no, I've got it. We bought that lasagna, remember? We're all set to go," Lily said, head bobbing.

Ty went to grab a bag of groceries, but Brad stopped him. "I've got this." He nodded toward Amy. "You take her home." His eyes flickered toward her.

Amy met his eyes and smiled. "It was good to meet you." _Ugh._

Brad gave a nod and took the groceries inside. Eyes still glued to the _Civil War_ comic, Lee grabbed his games and other comics.

"Bye." _What the heck._ "Hey, who's that guy on the cover? Not Spiderman."

Sliding from his seat to the ground, Lee didn't glance back. "You've never heard of Captain America?"

 _Yep. I shouldn't have said anything._ Lee shut the truck door.

Still holding her groceries and the strawberries, Amy got out so that she could sit up front. Lily stood in front of the open passenger's side door, nervously clutching her own strawberries. "I'm so sorry, Amy."

"It's all right," Amy said with as much patience as she could dredge up. "It was lovely to meet you."

"Oh, you too! We'll have to do this again sometime!" Nodding, Lily hurried up the steps, flapped a hand goodbye, and disappeared inside, the edge of her blue skirt floating behind her.

Stifling a sigh, Amy climbed into the passenger's seat. Ty backed his truck up and drove away.

* * *

On the way back to Heartland, it was Amy's turn to be quiet. Squinting slightly, she stared out the window without really seeing the townhouses, fields, and trees go by. The farther they got from Ty's house, the more she felt her irritation drain away, leaving—of all things—gratitude in its wake.

She was glad—so glad—that Ty had introduced her to his family and allowed her to see what he had to deal with every day. She just couldn't imagine. . . . Yes, her own family was a little weird and more than a little broken, and sometimes—but not much anymore—she and Lou had arguments that turned into screaming matches, and Grandpa still didn't like Dad much, and Mom was . . .

But she and Lou helped each other and actually held real, meaningful conversations with each other, and—more than that—they were friends. And Grandpa was trying to forgive Dad, and Dad called at least once a week to ask—really ask—about their lives. And Amy had so many wonderful, beautiful memories of Mom, who'd loved her and taught her and taken care of her instead of the other way around. (That wasn't totally fair, she knew, but she was glad that she couldn't even imagine her mom struggling with a mental illness.)

The only time this afternoon she'd sensed anything resembling the warmth that permeated her own home had been when she was in the grocery store with just Ty and Lily. She'd loved watching Ty reassure and encourage Lily without any condescension, and she'd loved seeing the adoration and gratitude in Lily's eyes. It was a feeling she understood well.

"You okay?"

Amy gave him a smile that radiated from warmth deep in her chest. Of course he would ask that. "I'm fine. It's just—" she reached for his free hand—"I don't know how you deal with that every day. Well, that's not true; I do know, because you're amazing—"

Ty shook his head. "I'm not, Amy. Trust me: that's not why I took you to meet my family. Some days I'm completely fed up with how they are."

"But you do it anyway," she said softly. She raised her eyebrows and looked him in the eye. "You are one of the most incredible people I've ever known, and I love you."

Ty's face broke into a huge smile that made Amy's heart soar. "I love you, too." He breathed a slightly unsteady laugh. "You have perfect timing, you know that?"

Amy shrugged, smiling back. "It just felt right, you know?"

"Yeah, it does."


	9. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 5

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 5**

 _December 2006_

Amy thought she'd gotten used to Daniel's bluntness, but the question that he threw over his shoulder as he pushed a wheelbarrow past her nearly made her knock over the remedies she'd been inspecting.

"Have you told Ty that I kissed you yet?"

The tiny brown bottles clinked, and Amy reached out to steady them on the shelf. "I—no."

"Okay."

Amy stared after him as he kept walking down the yard. It was only when he disappeared around the corner of the back barn that she looked back at the remedies. She picked up a bottle and turned it over. _Daniel's been coming over for weeks now. Why did he ask me that_ now _?_

She forced her focus back to the bottle in her hand. _Rock Rose._ She took the remedy and headed back into the barn. If she exercised four of the rescues that morning, then maybe she could work with—she ran through the list of horses in her mind—Solly, Dazzle, and Candy before Ty's mom brought him over that afternoon. He could help with some of the lighter chores, and they could chat and—

She swallowed. _Maybe I'll tell him then._

 **()()()()()**

 _Why haven't_ _I told Ty?_ The question circled in Amy's mind as she rode Candy in the round pen. A gust of wind blew across the yard, and she shivered despite her coat.

 _I haven't really thought about it. And when I_ do _think about it, I don't want to talk about it because I don't want to upset Ty. And it wasn't my fault. So why did Daniel have to ask if I'd told him?_

Candy sidestepped and pulled at the reins. "Sorry, girl," Amy muttered. Just as she'd gotten Candy under control, a car pulled into the driveway. Amy's stomach flipped as she recognized Ty's truck. She kept riding; Lily would see where she was and wheel Ty over.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ty wave as Lily helped him settle in the wheelchair. Amy pasted on a smile and waved back, frustrated that she couldn't just be happy to see him. There was a time when she thought she might never see him back at Heartland again, after all.

When Lily drove off, Amy stopped Candy and watched, surprised, as Ty wheeled himself down the yard. It became less of an effort to smile as he got closer and she could see the smile on his own face. Ty wasn't one to brag about his accomplishments, but she knew how much he must have practiced to be able to wheel himself that distance. He had every right, Amy thought, to feel proud of himself.

"Looking good," she called, smiling.

"Thanks." He stopped easily at the gate. "So, what can I do?"

"Sugarfoot and Jasmine need to be brushed. You can have Daniel bring them in for you." _Daniel._ She sighed inwardly. Candy snorted and Amy patted the mare's neck, trying to calm herself in the process.

Ty grinned. "I think I can handle that."

Amy was about to nudge Candy forward but, reminding herself that it was for Ty's good, asked, "Do you need me to push you to the back barn?"

Ty started wheeling off. "No, I've got it. Thanks, though."

She waited until he disappeared around the side of the barn and then kicked Candy into a trot. _I think you and I have a lot of work we need to do this afternoon, girl._

()()()()()

They did every possible exercise that Amy could think of: putting Candy through her paces, adding some more advanced moves that seemed like nothing for the mare, and even attempting a dressage routine that Amy had watched on TV last week—and trying it again when she forgot and switched the order of the extended trot and the collected canter.

"Good job!" Amy clapped Candy's neck once they were finished. Candy wasn't breathing too hard, but sweat dampened her neck. "I suppose we're done."

As they circled the pen, the dread that Amy had kept restrained for at least an hour and a half resettled in her chest. _I need to talk to him before he leaves. Otherwise, I'll lie awake all night thinking about it._ Sighing, she hopped off of Candy, opened the gate, and headed to the back barn.

Amy's stomach tightened when she entered the barn and saw Ty at the end of the aisle near Candy's stall, cleaning off a bridle. He looked up with a smile as she walked toward him. "I figured you'd be done soon. How'd she do?"

"She's doing really well." Amy unbuckled the girth and took the saddle off. "I'm going to call Barbara in a minute and let her know Candy can go home next week."

"Good. It seems like you all have been busy. I'm glad Daniel's been around to help."

"Yeah." _About Daniel . . ._ But she couldn't make the words leave her mouth.She slid the bridle off of Candy's ears and, grabbing the saddle off the wall partition, left the stall.

"Hey, if you want to take this back for me"—he held up the bridle he'd been cleaning—"I can get started brushing her off."

"Sure." She bent down so he could put the bridle on top of the saddle but avoided his eyes. _Listen, Ty, about Daniel . . ._ But again, the words choked in her throat. She tightened her grip on the leather and walked to the tack room. Snow flurries whipped up and down and across the yard, and Amy hunched her shoulders to burrow her nose into her scarf.

"I'll take those. You should help Ty."

Amy jumped a little and glanced over see Daniel next to her. "It's okay; I can take them."

He kept walking beside her. "You've barely seen Ty all afternoon. He doesn't just come here to see the horses, you know." He stopped in front of her and started taking the saddle from her hands.

 _First you ask me if I told Ty that you kissed me, and now you're trying to force me to talk to him?_ Amy scowled and pushed the saddle a bit more forcefully than necessary against Daniel's chest. "Fine," she whispered, sending him a glare.

He staggered back a step and steadied himself before shooting Amy a confused look. She just turned on her heel and stalked back to the barn.

When she reached Candy's stall, she hesitated, placing her hands on top of the stall door. _I really do need to tell him, though._ She took a deep breath that softened some of the edges of her irritation with Daniel.

Ty glanced up. "If you have something else you need to do, I can handle this."

"No, I . . . " She undid the bolt and let herself in. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Okay."

She caught a fleeting look of concern in his eyes before it was replaced with his usual calm expression. She picked up a curry comb and began turning it over and over in her hands. "Do you remember that—that day, when I went to Nick's yard to see Storm?"

Ty looked down for a second and looked back at her with a half-smile. "I remember that I was pretty frustrated with you for just going off without telling me."

"Well, when I was over there, Daniel and I were talking, and—I don't know how it happened, but . . . " Her voice grew soft, and she stared down at the curry comb she was twisting in her hands. "He kissed me."

Ty drew a breath. "I know."

Amy stared at him, trying to discern what was going on beneath that look of steady calm. "How did you—?"

"Daniel told me."

"When?"

"Today. That was the first thing he told me when I saw him."

Amy could feel herself shaking as she pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Ty, I am so sorry. That was such a weird day, and I just wanted to get out of the house. I didn't mean to lead him on! Ben told me he thought Daniel liked me, but I thought we were just friends, and . . . "

"Hey. Amy." He wheeled over and touched her elbow. "You don't have to be sorry. Daniel told me everything that happened. He said it absolutely wasn't your fault."

Amy looked at him through watery eyes. "I didn't mean for it to happen," she whispered.

"I know." He reached for her, and she bent down and let him wrap his arms around her. He held her for a minute as she sniffled on his shoulder, feeling all of the anxiety of the afternoon drain away. Finally, she let go and stepped back, swiping her sleeve beneath her eyes.

"I would like to know something, though," he said. "Why didn't you tell me what happened sooner? It's me. You know you can tell me anything."

Amy paused, running the question, which she'd been asking herself all afternoon, through her mind again. She blinked as the answer finally fell into place. Then she spoke softly. "For a long time, I was afraid I'd lost you for good. And when you came back, I was afraid that if I told you what had happened, I would lose you again."

Ty shook his head and reached for her hand. "That's not going to happen."

Amy looked down at their hands clasped together—at Ty's gloved fingers curved around hers. She remembered having to fold his limp hand around hers just two months ago and wondering if he would ever be able to hold her hand again. They didn't hold hands a lot, partly, Amy had come to realize, because deep down she was still determined that they wouldn't be like every other couple. But in ways that really mattered, they weren't, she knew. And maybe being a normal couple every once in a while wasn't such a bad thing.

"When you were in the hospital, I thought a lot about us," she said. "We never really just go out to—to a movie or something."

"We can do that. I just never thought you really wanted to."

"But did _you_? Sometimes I think we're just doing things my way, and I need to be more considerate of what you want."

"Amy." Ty looked at her and captured her other hand. "Look, you're being way too hard on yourself. You've been there for me whenever I needed you. How many hours did you spend sitting in that hospital room just talking to me? It's fine if you want us to do more things together—it's great, actually. But don't do it out of guilt, okay?"

Amy nodded and glanced back at Candy. The mare needed a bit more brushing, but Amy didn't want to let go of Ty's hand just yet.

"You know, Daniel did say that he kissed you because he didn't know you were dating somebody. I guess he couldn't tell when we visited him the first time that we were together."

"Well, it's not as if we hold hands like this all the time." Amy said quietly. "Maybe we should."

Ty grinned. "I like that idea."

Amy heard a car pull up and peered over the stall door. "Your mom's here." Reluctantly, she released Ty's hand so that he would be able to wheel himself out of the stall. She unbolted the latch and swung the door open.

Out in the aisle, Amy leaned over to hug Ty and grinned when he kissed her. "Just in case Daniel was watching," he whispered as she stepped back.

"Sure." She laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	10. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 6

_March 2007_

On the second anniversary of what should have been Mom's birthday, Amy dried off Sundance and watched Lou beam up at Scott, talking excitedly and scrunching her soaked hair with a towel. The rain pounding on the roof of the barn—the same downpour that had started halfway through the ride and drenched them all—made it hard to hear what, exactly, Lou and Scott were saying, but Amy just knew they were talking about the wedding. The matching gleams in their eyes said it all, and besides, it was all Lou had been able to talk about ever since they'd announced the date of the wedding—October 27.

Amy was surprised that picking a date hadn't made Lou more stressed out; instead, it had made her more relaxed and happier than Amy had seen her in a long time. As she brushed out Sundance's tail, she realized it was just another sign of how different she and Lou were. For the most part, Amy found deadlines really frustrating both for the pressure they caused and the lack of understanding they showed, especially when it came to her work with horses. Lou, on the other hand, thrived under deadlines. It wasn't that she didn't get stressed out (and drive everybody crazy in the process), but eventually she would get a determined glint in her eye and a stubborn set to her jaw, and no matter what, she always got the job done at least a little early.

Moving around to brush Sundance's mane, Amy smiled to see Lou's face as she led Jasmine back to her stall, Scott following with Candy. She was absolutely glowing, and it wasn't just from the raindrops that sparkled on her face in the glow of the barn lights. As they passed Amy, she caught a snatch of their conversation.

"We'd have to go that far south if we don't want to freeze at the seashore."

"Aww, come on. I'll keep you warm. Where's your sense of romance and adventure?"

Amy glanced away and breathed a laugh, feeling her cheeks turn red. They must really be in their own little bubble of happiness if they felt comfortable enough to discuss their honeymoon around everybody else. Brushing the last of the dampness from Sundance's mane, Amy reflected that she was fairly certain Lou and Scott had already slept together. She remembered the brightness in Lou's eyes when she and Scott had gotten back from their trip to Ayers Rock; something had told Amy that it wasn't just from the proposal and the diamond engagement ring on Lou's finger. But there still had to be something special about the honeymoon itself.

"Amy?"

Ty's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and as she looked at his patient face, she realized he'd asked her a question she hadn't heard at all. "I'm sorry—what did you say? I was watching them." She nodded at Scott and Lou, who were now debating the merits of going to the beach in Florida versus going skiing in Colorado. "They just look so happy, even though they're arguing," Amy said with a laugh.

Leaning against a stall, Ty looked over at them and smiled. "Yeah, they do. Hey, listen, do you have a lot of homework this weekend?"

"No more than usual. Why?"

"I'd like to take you out to dinner tomorrow. I was thinking maybe Al's?"

Amy grinned. "Yeah, absolutely! That would be fun."

Ty nodded. "Great. Is seven good? I have a half day tomorrow so I can take Mom shopping in the afternoon, but I can definitely be back by then."

"Perfect! I promise I'll try to be ready on time!"

A corner of Ty's mouth tilted up. "No pressure." He drew a breath and just looked at her for a second.

Amy tilted her head and gave a short laugh. "What?"

Ty shook his head, the look gone from his eyes. "Just looking forward to spending time with you." He kissed her cheek before heading for the tack room.

Amy couldn't hold back a grin as she tugged Sundance toward his stall. With the holidays and her trip to Australia, she and Ty hadn't had the chance to go out on dates like they'd discussed after his accident. Honestly, she hadn't even thought much about it. But of course Ty had. He was the best.

Just as she slid the bolt shut on Sundance's stall door, Grandpa hurried by with a pair of halters. Noticing the panicked look in his eyes and the tinge of red on his cheeks, Amy asked, "What's going on?"

After hanging the halters up, Grandpa stepped forward and, with a glance over his shoulder, whispered, "I'm as happy for Lou and Scott as the next guy, but there are some things I just do not want or need to know."

Choking back a giggle, Amy resisted the urge to ask Grandpa what he'd overheard Lou and Scott talking about and in the process make him relive his embarrassment. Instead, she put a consoling arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the farmhouse. "How about some tea?"

At the sound of Lou's laughter coming from the front of the barn, Grandpa closed his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, tea would be good."

* * *

Amy dropped by the kitchen for another cup of coffee the next midmorning and found Lou standing at her laptop at the kitchen counter, surrounded by glossy bridal magazines and brochures. "How's it going?" Amy asked, twisting the lid off of her Thermos and pouring herself more coffee.

"Fine. I know I could be doing all of this at the table, but standing burns more Calories and I need all the help I can get if I want to fit into a wedding dress properly."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "I . . . didn't say anything about—" she waved a hand at Lou's set-up.

Lou brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Right. Sorry." There was the stress Amy had wondered about yesterday—in Lou's strained voice, in the tightness of her shoulders, in the furrow between her eyebrows. Grim determination hadn't set in yet.

Amy sipped some coffee and summoned strength. "Is everything okay?"

Lou scrunched a hand in her hair and sighed. "It's stupid. Incredibly, unbelievably stupid."

"What?"

Lou sighed again. "I have my first dress appointment today, and I have no idea what sort of dress I want. The bloody outdated place doesn't have a website, so I can't see the dresses before I go!"

 _But won't you see the dresses when you get there?_ Amy drank more coffee and tried to grasp Lou's logic. "Well . . . even if you don't like any of the ones that are there, you've got plenty of time to pick one, right?"

"Not really!"

 _Whoops._ Gulping more coffee, Amy grimaced inwardly.

"The wedding is seven months away! It can take six months just to prepare a dress—you know, tailor it, that sort of thing."

Amy nodded and said carefully, "Well, maybe you'll just have to spend the next couple of weekends wedding dress shopping. That doesn't sound too bad, does it?"

Lou gulped her own coffee. "It wouldn't be if I didn't have at least a dozen other things I should've done by now. According to these timelines"—Lou flung a hand at her laptop screen—"I should be thinking about entertainment at the reception and flowers and registering for presents and booking hotels for out-of-town guests! But have I done any of that? No!"

Amy peered at the timeline before glancing up at Lou. "You know, you don't . . . have to follow those timelines."

"Oh, I'm not. I adapted them based on my own time frame. But the fact remains that I need to think about a DJ and flowers and registries and hotel rooms very, very soon if I still want to get married this October." Lou pressed the back of a hand to her forehead. "Do I? It's not as if we've sent out save-the-dates yet—oh! That's another thing." Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she mouthed, "Save the dates."

She looked up at Amy, who'd given up on trying to say anything helpful and decided to just smile and nod or frown and shake her head as needed. "I want to get married in the fall. September is too warm; November is too cold. So it has to be October. And I don't want to wait until _next_ October because you'll be at college and I'll have to work the wedding around when you'll be able to come home. So it has to be _this_ October."

Amy set down her Thermos and raised her hands. "Okay, whoa, slow down! I am not going to college. I'm going to graduate and work here, remember?"

Lou arched her eyebrows. "Hmmm."

Suppressing a flash of irritation, Amy drained her Thermos and said, "Okay, so, where's your dress appointment?"

"It's called Bonnie's Bridal. It's about half an hour from here." Lou's eyes sparked. "D'you want to come with me?"

Amy tilted her head. "I don't think I'll be much help picking out a dress." But deep down, she felt something like excitement at the thought of going with Lou to look for her wedding dress.

"Oh, I know that. I'd just . . . well, I'd just like the company."

Amy smiled. "Now _that_ , I can do. When do we need to leave?"

Lou glanced at her watch. "Ah, why don't you get ready now? I don't want to be late."

With a smirk, Amy set her Thermos in the sink and headed toward the hallway. Suddenly she turned back around the corner. "Oh! Will we be back by about five? I want to get some more work in with Dazzle before Ty and I go out tonight."

"Of course! Where are you going?"

"Al's: our usual place."

"Not somewhere special for your anniversary?"

Amy narrowed her eyes. "We don't have an anniversary, Lou; we're not married."

"Yes, you do! Ty asked you out a year ago today; thus, today is your anniversary."

"Well, technically, Ty didn't ask me out; we just agreed—"

Lou waved a hand. "The point is that that happened a year ago today, and Ty is taking you out to celebrate a year of being together—" her eyebrows reached for her hairline again—"and you need to go get ready so that I can make it to my appointment on time and not regret asking you to come with me."

Amy laughed. "Okay. All right. I'm going." She sprinted upstairs to take a quick shower.

* * *

Sitting in a stiff leather chair, Amy recrossed her legs, huffed a sigh, and waited for Lou and Evelyn, the very patient consultant, to come out of the dressing room again. Amy'd lost track of the number of dresses Lou had tried on; after the third one or so, they'd all started to blur together in a mass of poofy cream fabric.

Flipping her phone open and tilting it against the glare of the fluorescent lighting, she scrolled to Ty's name in her contacts and typed, **_I am going 2 die_**

She tapped on the arm of the chair and waited for him to respond before remembering that he was getting groceries with his mom. With another sigh, she selected Soraya's name instead.

 ** _When I get married I am NOT trying on more than 5 dresses_**

Soraya responded almost immediately. **_What if u hate them?_**

Amy rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. **_I hadn't thought of that…_**

 ** _:P_**

The dressing room door clicked open, and Amy flipped her phone shut and sat up. Evelyn holding her train, Lou emerged in a slim-fitting longsleeved dress with—Amy blinked—a very low neckline. Like, she was pretty sure it ended right above Lou's belly button. Well, maybe not. But still.

Lou stepped in front of the mirrors, and just as Evelyn smoothed out her train, the phone at the front desk rang. "Excuse me for just one second!" Evelyn scurried off with what Amy would've sworn was relief in her eyes.

Pursing her lips, Lou twisted toward the mirror. "Well—" she smoothed a hand down her hip—"what do you think?"

"Was this one of the ones you picked, or did Evelyn pick it?"

"I did."

Nodding, Amy raised her eyebrows and took a breath. "Hmm."

"You're judging me, aren't you?"

"What? No! I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to! That look on your face said everything." Lou sniffed. "I'll have you know this is very fashionable."

Amy pressed her lips together and tried to suppress the laugh working its way up her throat. "But won't you be cold?" She snorted at the end but tried to disguise it as a sneeze and raised the crook of her arm to her face.

Lou put her hands on her hips and glared at her.

Amy took a deep breath and let it out. "It's just…weird, Lou. It's not you."

With a sigh, Lou turned back to the mirror. "I haven't liked any of these dresses," she said quietly as Evelyn made her way back from the front desk.

Evelyn clasped her hands in front of her. "I'm so sorry, Lou, but I'm afraid the time for your appointment is just about up. How about I help you change out of that dress, and we can talk about making your next appointment."

Lou smiled graciously. "Yes, that sounds lovely. Thank you." Before disappearing into the dressing room, she glanced over her shoulder and shook her head almost imperceptibly at Amy.

Amy breathed a laugh and checked her phone. Ty had finally texted her back. **_Is it that bad?_**

 ** _It was D: Lou's almost done now_**

Lou came out of the dressing room a few minutes later. "Thank you again for your time. I'll call to make my next appointment once I've checked my schedule." She and Evelyn shook hands.

Evelyn nodded at Amy. "Lovely to meet you, Amy. I hope to see you girls again soon!"

"Thanks." With a smile, Amy followed Lou out of the bridal boutique.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Lou muttered as they ducked into her car.

Amy buckled her seatbelt and rested an elbow on the door. "At least now you know what you don't want."

"Yes, I don't want to go back there ever again." Lou pursed her lips and glanced into the rearview mirror as she backed out of her parking space. "Really, all those dresses were dreadful. Evelyn was perfectly helpful, though, so I suppose I can't leave them too harsh of a review."

When they turned onto the main road a few minutes later, Lou glanced over at Amy. "D'you mind if we stop at Target for a little while? I want to get started on my registry, and I could buy you a new dress for tonight."

"Oh! I really need to get back and work with Dazzle before Ty and I go out tonight."

Lou raised her eyebrows. "How much time do you need with Dazzle? It's only three."

"It is?" Amy looked at the clock on the dashboard. "Oh, it is." She smiled sheepishly. "Well, yeah, we can go to Target, then, though I don't really need a new dress for tonight, Lou; we're just going to Al's."

Lou smirked at her. "The appointment was only an hour long. I'm sorry if it felt like a small eternity."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Mmhmm."

They pulled into the Target parking lot about ten minutes later, and Amy followed Lou to customer service, where an employee handed Lou a scan gun and explained how to use it. As they headed for housewares, Lou handed Amy the scan gun. "D'you think this might keep you from getting too bored?"

Amy considered the scan gun before raising her eyebrows and tilting her head at Lou. "What if I run off to the toy section and scan a bunch of Breyer horses? I'm sure those would be great for your new house—make it feel more like home."

Lou smiled sweetly. "Because if you do, I'll leave you here and you'll miss your anniversary dinner."

Amy gave Lou a wry smile and followed her to the shower curtains.

* * *

Lou sank into the driver's seat and dumped her bag near Amy's feet with a flourish. "Well then." She started the car and pulled out of her parking space. "Why is it so much easier to plan how I want my house to look than what I want my wedding to be?"

 _"_ You found a lot of great stuff, Lou. I really like those pillows you picked out. They're so soft, and I like that shade of green."

Lou shook her head and smirked. "You and your pillows."

"I like pillows. When I get married, I'm going to register for tons of them."

Lou breathed a laugh and flicked on the fan. The air coming from the vent underneath the glove compartment blew open the bag at Amy's feet, but she very pointedly did not look inside. Unfortunately, she couldn't quite keep her brain from immediately displaying a mental picture of the very lacy, very short white nightgown and the equally lacy red underwear Lou had found at the end of their shopping trip. Leaning forward and averting her eyes, she clamped the bag shut.

"You can put that in the back if you want," Lou said, glancing over.

Amy tossed the bag backwards, but the red underwear flew out of the bag onto the back seat. Gritting her teeth, she reached back, grabbed the underwear, and dumped them into the bag, which she promptly tied shut. Sitting back in her seat, she resolutely looked straight ahead and tried to think about the normal, knee-length, not-lace navy blue dress Lou had bought for her.

"You know, unless you skip my bridal shower—which I absolutely forbid you from doing—you're going to see lingerie again in the near future."

"I know. It's fine." But she knew her cheeks were burning and her voice was too high and too tight.

"Mhmm." Lou's eyes darted over again. "I suppose you and Ty still haven't had sex yet, then."

"No! What does that have to do with lingerie? I mean, I know people wear lingerie before they—but—no!" Amy felt her face burn even more deeply, and her stomach felt oddly fluttery. Right after she and Ty had started dating, Lou had cornered her and informed her that though she knew how high school relationships worked, it would in fact be illegal for Amy and Ty to sleep together since she was underage but Ty wasn't. Amy'd declared that she hadn't even thought about it, Lou, so could they please change the subject? Much to Amy's relief, Lou hadn't brought up the topic again (until now). Amy glanced out the window and prayed that the car ahead of them would go a little faster.

"You weren't planning on celebrating your anniversary in that particular way, were you?"

"No! God, Lou. No. We're going to dinner, and that's it."

Lou 's eyebrows arched. "You're sure Ty didn't have anything else in mind? It is your anniversary, after all."

Amy's face was flaming now. "Yes! I'm sure!"

"All right. Calm down. I didn't meant to make you all flustered. I just wanted to be sure the two of you aren't doing anything—or planning to do anything—you shouldn't be."

"No! I'm not eighteen! I know!" Not that that was her main reason for not sleeping with Ty, but Lou didn't need to know that. School gossip regularly reminded her how badly sleeping together messed up a lot of couples her age, and she really wasn't interested in adding that drama and weirdness to her relationship with Ty.

Lou gave a decisive nod. "All right then. We'll revisit this in a year. Or before then, of course, if you have any questions."

Resisting the urge to raise her eyebrows, Amy pressed her lips together and nodded. "Sounds good."

* * *

Dashing down the stairs at five past seven, Amy heard Lou's voice coming from the kitchen. "Fifty percent off and free shipping! Can you believe it?" She entered the kitchen to see Lou and Ty standing at the counter, Lou crossing her arms and regarding her laptop with a very pleased expression.

 _Please don't let her be looking at more lingerie._ "What did you find, Lou?"

"The save-the-dates!"

"They're really nice, Lou," Ty said with a smile. "I'm glad everything's coming together."

"Yes, well. I still have six more things I need to do by next week, but it's getting there, I suppose. I know you two need to get going, so I'll show you the save-the-dates later."

Amy grabbed her sweater from the back of a kitchen chair. "See you later!"

"Have fun!" Lou gave Amy a pointed look.

Amy scowled at Lou and followed Ty out the door. It was a pretty night—cool, but with a lightly warm breeze. Stars peeked around puffy blue-gray clouds. A horse snorted in the barn, the sound carrying down the yard.

Ty came around to open the truck door for her. "You look really nice. Is that dress new?"

"Yeah. Lou got it for me today." Amy sat down, making sure the dress was spread over and under her legs, and buckled.

Ty climbed into the driver's seat. "I like it. I feel sort of underdressed compared to you," he said with a wry grin.

"I was going to wear jeans, but Lou insisted. It's our anniversary, after all."

Ty's grin lit up his eyes. "You remembered."

"Lou reminded me," Amy said with a laugh. "Why didn't you say anything when you asked me to dinner?"

Ty glanced over at her. "I didn't want you to feel bad if you didn't remember. Listen, it didn't really matter if you did or not; I just wanted us to spend time together."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "On our anniversary."

Ty nodded in concession. "Yeah."

Amy crossed her legs and tugged the hem of her dress to her knees before reaching for his hand. "I'm sorry I was late. I didn't mean to leave you with Bridezilla there."

"I didn't mind listening to Lou."

Amy squeezed his hand. "You never mind listening to anybody."

Ty's eye narrowed thoughtfully. "I think she's a little lonely."

Amy copied his expression. "Lonely? What do you mean?"

"When I got there, she was on the phone with Marnie—Lou was saying something about how she knew Marnie was busy and it was a really last-minute thing, so she'd just see her at the shower. She sounded like she was fine, but she looked sad."

"I guess you do usually plan a wedding with your friends, don't you? Or your mom." Amy's stomach tightened. "I know she wishes Mom were here to help." She pursed her lips. "I'll go with her to look at more wedding dresses. It's the least I can do."

They pulled into the parking lot at Al's. As they walked hand-in-hand to their favorite table, a booth tucked along the back wall, Amy recognized Mark Rodriguez walking past them. "Mark! Hi!"

Mark stopped and smiled broadly at them. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Good!"

"You know, I spent all that time working with the two of you with Venture, and I didn't realize you were together."

Amy breathed a laugh and ducked her head to shoot a wry smile at Ty. "We generally keep it pretty quiet. We've been together for a year, though."

"A year! Wow. Hey, congratulations."

"Thanks. How's Venture doing?"

Mark's eyes were warm. "Really well. We went out on patrol the other day, and he was back to his calm, steady self. Thank you again."

"We're so glad we could help."

"Hey, it was good seeing you. Enjoy the rest of your evening!" With a smile and nod, Mark headed for the door.

After ordering sodas and their usual, pizza with pepperoni and green peppers, Ty looked at her with a grin in his eyes. "I guess it's like you said: we need to hold hands more often."

Amy grinned back at him and rested her arms on the table. "It's been quite a year, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," Ty said quietly.

"It was kind of a crazy one—a tornado and your accident and a wild mustang—and a police horse! But I'm really glad I got to be your girlfriend through all of it."

A corner of Ty's mouth lifted and he held up his soda. "To another year of craziness together."

"But not too much craziness," Amy laughed, clinking her glass against his. "I'd rather you weren't in the hospital for any reason this year."

"Thanks for that." Ty took a drink of his soda.

Amy set her glass down on a coaster. "Seriously, though, you've been an amazing boyfriend. I mean, I knew you would be, but you've been better than I could have imagined."

"You deserve it, you know. You're pretty amazing yourself." Ty held her gaze for a moment, and the love shining out from his eyes was enough to make her blush and duck her head to take a sip of her soda.

The server came by with their pizza, and Amy felt a little flustered and shaky as she took her plate. She desperately wished they weren't in public; she wanted so badly to kiss him. Technically, she knew she could, but they still weren't big on public displays of affection beyond holding hands, and she would have to lean over the table and would probably get cheese and pepperoni all over her dress. She'd just have to wait.

* * *

As soon as they got into the truck, Amy leaned over the console, took Ty's face in her hands, and kissed him soundly.

When they pulled apart, Amy looked him in the face. "I've been waiting to do that for hours. Well, maybe not hours. Half an hour, maybe. As long as it took us to eat."

Ty breathed a laugh, and Amy would swear he was blushing. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Amy raised her eyebrows as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Well, you did toast to another year of craziness with me."

"I did." He shot her another look full of love, and Amy wished she could kiss him again.

 _What is wrong with me?_ She never thought about kissing Ty this much. But it was their anniversary, after all, and it had been a crazy day full of weird conversations.

Suddenly she wondered if they needed to have one more weird conversation. "Hey, Ty?"

"Hmm?"

"Are—are you . . . okay that we haven't really done anything except, you know, hold hands and kiss? I mean, I know most guys wouldn't be, but you're not most guys, and I'm not even sure why I'm bringing this up, to be honest, except Lou was asking me about it earlier since it's our anniversary, and I don't think I want to yet because all it seems to do is mess up relationships at our age, though it might not mess ours up since we're different, and I don't want it to just be about what I want, and—" she let out a breath that she hoped would calm her pounding heart. "I don't know."

Ty was silent for a few moments, and Amy bit her lip, knowing he was just putting together what he wanted to say but worrying she'd weirded him out as much as she'd weirded herself out. When they got to a stoplight, he took her hand and looked at her. "Amy, you know I love you—a lot. And you're so beautiful. But you've been through a lot over the past few years, and it's made you have to grow up really fast. I don't want to make you have to grow up any more than you already have. That next step is a really big deal."

Amy nodded, swallowing the ache in her throat. Ty was such a good guy.

The light turned green, and he drove through the intersection. "Lou told you it's illegal too, right?"

"Yeah, but—" Amy pressed her lips together and shrugged. "It's not like that stops the people at school."

"Most people at your school aren't nineteen and in a relationship with people almost three years younger than they are."

"Two and a half years."

Ty grinned. "Since when did you care about—or remember—exact ages?"

Amy punched his arm. "Hey! I know you're going to be twenty in December." She crinkled her nose. "That sounds really old."

"Plus, if we did, I'm pretty sure Jack would kill me, and then Lou would bring me back from the dead somehow and kill me again."

Amy laughed, feeling all her unease melt away. "So we're good, then?"

Ty rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. "Very good."

When they got back to Heartland and Ty kissed her goodbye under the glow of the porch lights, Amy wished he would hold her just a little bit longer. But she didn't say anything, instead just wrapping her arms around herself and watching him drive away before heading inside.


	11. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 7

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 7**

 _I am so sorry for the long wait. I do have three more chapters just about ready to go (I'll publish one a week) and several more planned._

* * *

 _2007_

Ty's dad was good at remembering dates that were important but not practical. He could tell you the exact dates the Phillies had won important games—not even just the World Series (October 21, 1980) but games they'd won in a significant way and especially games in which they'd beaten the Mets (like when they swept the Mets in a three-game series from September 12 – 14, 1986). And sure, he knew when his anniversary was—and never failed to call Mom when he was on the road—and when their birthdays were (though Ty had wondered once or twice if Dad only remembered Lee's birthday because he was born exactly one year before the Phillies won the NLCS against the Braves).

But he couldn't tell you when Lee had a baseball game or a math test or an essay due. He couldn't tell you when Mom needed her prescription refilled. Sometimes Ty liked to think Dad would be good at remembering practical dates if he were home, but that was the thing: the majority of the time, he wasn't home. And when he was, he didn't need to remember because Ty always wrote all the appointments and game dates and homework deadlines, color-coded because it helped Mom more easily picture what was written, on the calendar on the fridge.

For years, Mom was either too withdrawn or too scattered to keep track of dates except for birthdays and anniversaries, which she could call up with only minimal hesitation: " _August 4, 1966: Brad's birthday. February 27, um, 1967: my birthday. December 16, 1987: Ty's birthday. October 13, 1992: Lee's birthday. May, ah, 24, 1987: our anniversary_." She'd even added a few dates for Ty's benefit. " _June—oh, June 12, um, 1990: Amy's birthday. And, oh, March 24, 2006: your and Amy's anniversary_."

But her memory didn't mean she was good at planning ahead, so after a few last-minute attempted-celebration-planning meltdowns, Ty had learned to keep a stash of boxed cake mixes and canned icing in the pantry and a ready supply of gift boxes and wrapping paper in the hall closet so that Mom could make a cake and wrap presents herself, which were two of her favorite things to do if she was feeling up to it.

Even though Mom was doing better now that she was on medication and seeing a therapist twice a month, Ty was still the one who kept track of all of the important stuff and all of the practical stuff and everything in between, just like he'd done for years. His brain had also become weirdly good at collecting dates on which important things ended up happening. (June 6, 2002: moving from Rankin, Pennsylvania, to Meadowville, Virginia. June 14, 2002: meeting Amy and getting his job at Heartland. June 9, 2005: Marion died. What was it with his life and the month of June?) He wasn't surprised, then, that as he looked back on the last year of his and Amy's relationship, all of his major memories were attached to very specific dates.


	12. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 8

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 8**

 _October 28, 2007_

The day after Lou and Scott's wedding, Ty was sitting on the bench on the porch after a long day of removing ribbon and tulle, folding up tables and chairs, taking down the tent, and stuffing the refrigerator with reception leftovers.

The evening air was warm, and fading sunlight slanted onto the porch. Ty could hear melted snow—the result of a weird October storm that hit just days before the wedding—dripping from the roof and gushing down the drainpipe.

It had been a really nice wedding. Ty had only been to one other wedding (he'd been the ring bearer in his dad's brother's wedding when he was six), so he didn't really have a lot to compare it to, but Lou and Scott had had fun, and the food was delicious (he couldn't wait to take that extra apple pie home to Mom; he knew she'd love it), and the music had been good for dancing (which he and Amy had done until she was nearly asleep on her feet, and then she'd actually fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder back at their table).

The screen door squeaked, and Amy, elbow pressed to the handle and shoulder pressed to the screen, edged her way out while holding two plates of leftover wedding cake.

Ty stood and grabbed the door handle.

"Thank you! Wouldn't want to drop your reward after a hard day's work." She handed Ty his plate and, shooting him a look, flopped down on the bench next to him. "I never want to see tulle again in my life," she said around a mouthful of cake. "My fingers hurt from untying all those bows."

Ty grinned but noted her unnaturally fast, breathless tone and the way she kept glancing over at him. "Yeah. I get why Lou wanted to save the tulle, but…"

"When's she going to use it again? I mean, I guess she could reuse it whenever she has a baby shower." Another glance. "That's a weird thought: my sister, having a baby."

Ty breathed a laugh and, taking a bite of cake, watched Amy tap her fingers against the bench arm. Something was up. He wondered if all the wedding preparation and then the wedding itself had gotten her thinking about her own wedding. They were too young to get married themselves (though they weren't too much younger than his parents were when they'd gotten married, not that they were the best example for him and Amy to follow), but he also knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

As she took a breath and turned to him, he felt his heart beat a little faster, but he made sure his face stayed calm, eyebrows raised just a little to let her know he was ready to listen.

"Ty . . . I have something I need to tell you."

Ty set down his mostly empty plate and nodded, trying to figure out what she'd be so nervous about telling him. She'd already told him "I love you"—a long time ago, in fact, and repeatedly since then. She'd mentioned Lou having a baby—there was no way _Amy_ could be pregnant; they still hadn't—

"You know how my SAT scores were surprisingly really good? Well, I know I said I still wasn't going to college, but . . . I changed my mind." And then, drawing a breath, she straightened up and looked him in the eye. "I'm going to apply to Virginia Tech."

He couldn't say he was surprised. Amy would do anything to help horses, and now that her high SAT scores gave her the opportunity to use even her schooling to help them, it made sense for her to study to be a vet. So he nodded and clamped down on the tiny tendril of panic threading its way through his chest. "I'm guessing you want to be a vet?"

Amy nodded up at him, clear excitement in her eyes. "They have an amazing equine veterinary program. And it's only two hours away, so I'll still be able to come home a lot."

Wrapping an arm around her, Ty pulled her close. "You're going to be a great vet." He smiled despite the sadness tugging at his heart. "As long as you do your homework on time."

Amy laughed and elbowed him. "Hey!"

Ty smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'm sure you'll get in."

"I hope so. I'm going to apply when Lou gets back; that way, she can help me with the application." After kissing his cheek, Amy pulled her feet up onto the bench and curled up next to him, pushing his hair out of his eyes before resting her head on his chest. "The sky's so pretty tonight."

Ty glanced up at the shades of pink and purple streaking across the sky. "Mmhmm." Holding Amy close as they watched the sun set, Ty told himself that everything would be fine; she was just going to college; he wasn't going to lose her.


	13. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 9

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 9**

 _April 1, 2008_

They all knew the letter from Virginia Tech was coming: Amy had met the application deadline and was promised an answer on April 1. In turn, she'd made Jack, Ty, and Lou promise to let her get the mail when the bus dropped her off. She wanted to open the letter by herself first.

So they were all waiting in the barn around 3:45—well, Jack and Ty were cleaning tack while Lou put away the polished saddles and bridles and paced, arms crossed, hands gripping the opposite forearm, up and down the aisle between trips to the tack room.

 _Whatever happens today, everything's going to be fine. I'm going to be there for her no matter what._ Those two sentences circled in Ty's mind, gradually easing the grip anxiety had on his heart. By the time they heard the telltale squeal and whoosh of bus brakes, Ty felt completely calm and ready to face both Amy and the letter from Virginia Tech.

Lou, on the other hand, rushed to the barn doorway. "Oh, every part of me wants to run to the mailbox right now."

Jack chuckled. "Give her some space, Lou."

Lou turned away from the doorway. "Yes, right. Space." She resumed pacing. "She got in. Of course she got in. She has to. They'd be fools not to take her."

Suddenly the top of Amy's head appeared, just visible over the crest of the last hill on the long, winding driveway. She sprinted toward them, a piece of paper flapping in her hand. Even from far away, Ty could tell she was beaming.

"Oh, she did it!" Unable to contain herself, Lou ran toward her.

Feeling a burst of pride only slightly checked by a twinge of sadness, Ty grinned at Jack. They set down the tack they'd been cleaning and walked out to the yard.

Lou and Amy were hugging and jumping up and down, but when she noticed Jack and Ty approaching, Lou let go and met Amy's teasing grin with a slightly self-conscious laugh. "Well, this calls for a celebration! I'm going to call Scott and tell him we're eating here tonight, and then I'll get right to work on dinner."

Ty put his arm around Amy, and she leaned into him. "Baked macaroni and cheese would be good," she said. "Unless you had something else planned, though really it should be my decision since it's my celebration, after all."

Lou smirked. "I already bought all the ingredients."

Amy raised her eyebrows and tilted her chin. "What if I hadn't gotten in?"

"Then it would've been comfort food." Lou gave a decisive nod. "I'll have it ready about six." She strode for the house.

Jack gestured to the piece of paper in Amy's hand. "Let me see that." Ty watched as Amy, unmistakably starry-eyed, held out the acceptance letter. Jack scanned the paper and, chuckling, handed it back to her. "I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

She stepped forward to hug him. "Thanks, Grandpa."

"I'm gonna go finish up that tack." He squeezed her shoulder and ambled toward the barn. Then it was just Amy, Ty, and the letter.

She smiled up at him, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. As he watched her hold up the piece of paper and look it over once more, a heaviness seemed to settle over him. _She's really leaving._ He wondered if she felt it too as he sensed her descending into deep thought.

Taking his hand, she led him over to the fence. She stood up on the bottom rail and gazed out at the pasture, where Sundance, Jasmine, Sugarfoot, and Jake were grazing. He put a hand on her shoulder and waited for her to speak, watching the horses swish their tails and amble through the grass.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Well, I did it." She glanced over at him, the excitement in her eyes replaced by undeniable sadness.

He rubbed his thumb across her shoulder and spoke past the ache in his throat. "I knew you could do it."

She nodded quickly, tears gleaming in her eyes. In one swift motion, she stepped down from the rail, wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face against his chest. "I'm going to miss you so much."

Ty clenched his jaw and blinked rapidly, trying unsuccessfully to hold back his own tears. When he finally trusted himself to speak, he whispered, "I'm going to miss you too."

She stayed that way for a few moments, sniffling, hiding her face against him. He held her and just breathed, focusing on the details—already etched into his mind—of how she felt in his arms: strong and soft all at once, smelling of hay and her lavender shampoo. Eventually, she pulled back a little and swiped at her face. "I'm really excited to go. I just hate it that you're not going to be there too."

Ty managed a half-smile. "Yeah."

She gave a shaky smile and reached up to brush the tears off his face and a strand of hair from his eyes. "I'll call you a lot." She sniffled again and breathed a laugh. "I'm going to have enormous phone bills. Lou's going to be so mad."

"Hey, I'll pay for your phone bills if it means I get to talk to you."

Amy smiled at him before resuming her spot on the fence railing. Ty wrapped an arm around her again, resting his hand on her hip. She reached over the top rail to ruffle Sundance's forelock. "You'd better behave while I'm gone."

Ty snorted, and Amy shot him a mock glare that quickly turned into a grin. "Yeah, I know—not much chance of that." They watched him wander off, tail swatting at flies, pausing to nip Jasmine's shoulder.

"We'll take good care of him."

"I know you will." She caught his hand and twined her fingers with his. "D'you want to go for a ride? Sundance could use the exercise—and Jasmine could use a break from him. We should have time before dinner."

Ty nodded. "Sounds good." Hands tightly clasped, they headed for the barn.


	14. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 10

_It's going to be a busy month. Apologies in advance if I'm unable to update for a while._

* * *

 **Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 10**

 _May 3, 2008_

Opening the door as quietly as possible, Ty peeked into dim light to see Mom buried under her quilt, facing away from him. The curtains were closed, and the white noise machine whirred softly. She could be asleep. He hoped she was asleep, rather than lying there feeling like dead weight, either consumed with guilt over missing out on taking pictures of Amy and Ty before Amy's senior prom or unable to feel anything past the heavy fuzz in her mind.

He sighed through his nose and silently shut the door, wondering how long this episode would last. It had started on Wednesday, right after Dad left for his latest trip. She always struggled even more when he was away, but it seemed to get a little better after she'd started taking antidepressants again last summer. Not this time, though.

Squaring his shoulders, Ty grabbed his suit from his room and entered the kitchen, where Lee was sprawled in a chair with his textbooks, notebooks, and pencils spread all over the table before him. After draping his suit over an unoccupied chair, Ty dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out his wallet. "The pizza should be here in half an hour. This should be enough for everything, including tip." He held out a five and a ten to Lee.

Lee glanced up from his frayed, yellowed copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_ and snagged the money with two fingers. "Thanks."

Ty's eyes drifted over the kitchen table. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Fine." Lee scribbled something in a tattered green notebook.

Ty nodded. "That's good." Lee had an essay due on Monday for his AP English class, worth twenty percent of his final grade, and he'd barely written the first draft. But, Ty reminded himself, that was just how Lee worked. He'd probably still be up working on it when Ty got back, but he'd get it done before the bus came Monday morning.

Twirling his tooth-marked pencil between his fingers, Lee looked up again. "You should go. You don't wanna keep Amy waiting."

Ty made his way to the front door. "Call me if you or Mom need anything."

"Yep." Lee gave him a two-finger salute.

Breathing a laugh, Ty shut and locked the door. After carefully laying his suit across the back seat of his truck, he switched on the radio—Mat Kearney was playing, so he turned it up a little—and headed the road.

" _Come on and we'll try one last time. I'm off the floor one more time to find you. . . ."_

He hated it that Mom wasn't riding with him, gushing about the fun he and Amy were sure to have that night. She'd been so excited to see Amy in her dress in person; once Lou had sent her a photo of the dress Amy had decided to borrow, Mom had even picked out a bracelet she thought might go with it. ( _"D'you think she'll like it? She doesn't have to wear it if she doesn't want to! But oh, I think it would be so pretty with her hair and her eyes and that dress!_ _Oh! But you should take it to her yourself. I don't want her to feel awkward if she doesn't want to wear it_. _)_

He'd taken Amy the bracelet a few weeks ago, and Mom was thrilled to hear that she'd seemed genuinely excited about wearing it. After giving Ty the bracelet, she'd found the matching earrings as well and was only a little deflated when Ty told her Amy didn't actually have pierced ears. ( _"Oh! I can wear the earrings, and she can wear the bracelet, and we can take a picture together. No, that would be weird. I'm not her mom, and I don't want to make her feel bad about—you know. D'you think we could take a picture together anyway?"_ )

Ty'd assured her that Amy would be happy to take pictures with her, and she'd been absolutely elated. But now she wasn't going to get that opportunity. Lou had promised to email her the pictures that very evening, but it wasn't the same. Ty wasn't sure Mom would even be up to looking at a computer that night.

He sighed through his nose. _I should be used to this by now._ It definitely wasn't the first time Mom's depression had forced a change of plan, and it almost certainly wouldn't be the last. At least she would get to see the pictures eventually. At least he could tell her all about it. He just hoped that if—when—he and Amy had another event, sometime in the future, in which she wore a beautiful dress and he wore a suit (or a tux, though he didn't know if Amy would want things that fancy), Mom would be able to enjoy every minute.

* * *

Soraya and Matt pulled into the driveway a minute after Ty had gotten to Heartland, so he barely had time to admire Amy in her dress—gray with a sweetheart neckline, cap sleeves covering her shoulders, skirt flaring like an upside-down flower and ending just above her knees—before Lou ushered them all outside for pictures. When Amy adamantly refused to take any pictures in the typical prom poses ("Not on the stairs; that's been done so many times, Lou. And I don't want any with Ty behind me, either. People's hands always look weird in those."), Lou looked flustered for a minute before Soraya sprang forward and suggested different, fun shots.

Ty knew Mom would like the one of him and Amy holding hands in front of the barn doors (personally, though, he had the most fun taking the ones of all of them trying to jump at the same time. Amy was laughing too hard to complain about the slight cliché of it).

Finally they headed off to Al's, Lou promising yet again that she would send the pictures to his mom "straight away." They all rode in Matt's Prius, and on the way to the restaurant, Matt, Amy, and Soraya gossiped about their classmates—well, Soraya did most of the talking, Matt watching her with fond amusement and Amy chiming in occasionally. Aside from Ashley, Ty didn't know the people they were discussing, but Amy was happy, laughing and shooting him a smile every so often, so he was happy.

Over their pizza and sodas, Matt and Soraya asked about the horses he and Amy were working with. Ty would've been fine just listening to the three of them talking, but he appreciated the effort, and he did think they genuinely wanted to know. They wouldn't be friends with Amy if they didn't mind constantly hearing about horses.

In her enthusiastic description of Ulysses, the show jumper they'd helped to overcome a fear of water jumps, Amy almost spilled pizza toppings all over herself, but somehow Ty managed to catch the glob of marinara, cheese, and mushrooms in a napkin before it fell from the slice of pizza in her hand onto the front of her dress. Matt and Soraya applauded his fast reflexes, Ty laughed, and Amy, grinning sheepishly, made sure to eat the rest of her pizza leaning over her plate.

As soon as Matt turned on the car once they were finished at Al's, Soraya gasped and flung a hand at the radio. "Turn it up! Turn it up!"

Amy groaned. "Not this song."

"Yes, this song!" Soraya leaned over the armrest and reached for the volume knob before singing along dramatically. "Take me away—a secret place, a sweet escape . . . "

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Ty tried not to laugh at the disgust on Amy's face as Matt proceeded to join Soraya, singing along in a wobbly falsetto.

Amy huffed, crossing her arms. "Have I mentioned I hate this song?"

Soraya just sang louder. "I've got a pocket—got a pocketful of sunshine."

Amy glared at Matt, who was enthusiastically chair-dancing right along with Soraya. "You are no help!"

Ty burst out laughing, and Amy punched his arm. "Traitor."

"Hey, I'm not singing along."

Amy scowled. "I'm going to have this stupid song stuck in my head all night."

Matt continued chair-dancing but stopped singing for a second to point out, "We're going to hear at least sixty songs tonight. I'm sure one of them will replace 'Pocketful of Sunshine' eventually."

"'At least sixty'? Really?" Amy arched her eyebrows and smirked.

Matt sat still and glanced at her in the interior rearview mirror. "Come on, Amy; it's simple math!"

Amy kept her eyebrows raised.

Matt sighed. "Well, if you think about it this way, prom's about four hours long, so you need two hundred forty minutes worth of songs. The average song is four minutes long, so—two hundred forty divided by four is sixty."

"Ohh, okay!" Amy flopped back in her seat. "Weirdo."

Soraya flung her hands in the air. "Oh, my god! Will you shut up! It's almost the best part!"

Amy huffed another sigh and pursed her lips before starting to sing along. "And there's no more lies, and the darkness is light, and nobody cries. There's only butterflies!"

Ty shot her a surprised look, and she rolled her eyes and shrugged. He just laughed as the three of them belted out the rest of the song, Amy with a slightly sheepish look on her face.

Once it was over, Soraya sat back in her seat. "Whew. Thank you."

Wearing a look of self-disgust, Amy reached over the middle armrest and turned the volume down. "You're welcome."

Soraya stuck her tongue out at Amy before fishing in her purse for Altoids, which she passed around. "You know, that song makes me want to go to the beach. We should totally do that, the four of us: take a trip to Myrtle Beach or Ocean City or something for a week this summer, before we all go our separate ways."

"My parents have a timeshare in Myrtle," Matt said. "I can find out which weeks the condo's available for us to use this year."

Soraya closed the Altoids and put them back into her purse. "Perfect! So when do we want to go?"

Ty hadn't been to the beach since he was ten, and he'd never been to Myrtle Beach, so he thought it sounded like fun. And if they stayed at Matt's parents' condo, they'd only have to pay for gasoline and food, which was manageable. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy sitting there frozen, a look of slight panic in her eyes.

"Well. . . . " She took a breath. "I don't know, you guys. I . . . I'm not sure if I want to be away from Heartland for that long. I mean, I'm leaving at the end of the summer." Her eyes darted to Ty.

"So are the rest of us," Matt pointed out in what Amy called his I'm-being-reasonable tone. "Who knows if we'll be able to do this any other summer."

Soraya placed a hand on Matt's arm. "Maybe a weekend instead of a week?"

"Well . . . I'll have to talk to Lou and Joni about schedules. But that might work. I'll let you know." Amy shot them both a smile. As Soraya turned up the radio again and she and Matt started singing along to "Teardrops on My Guitar," Amy squeezed Ty's hand before bending over and digging into her purse. She pulled out her phone and started tapping at the keyboard.

Ty felt his phone buzz in his pocket. _**"What do you think?"**_

" _ **Could be fun,"**_ he typed back.

Amy pursed her lips as she typed. _**"Yeah. I guess I just didn't think about being away from Heartland at all this summer. I mean, I already have to stay at VA Tech for two days for orientation."**_

Ty nodded at her. _**"We don't have to go."**_

" _ **Do you want to go?"**_

Ty tried to think quickly. On the one hand, he would love to go to the beach with Amy, and this seemed like an easy, affordable way to do it. But on the other hand, he understood completely where she was coming from. She'd never been away from Heartland for very long before, and never in a semi-permanent way like what she was facing at the end of the summer. _**"I'm fine either way."**_

Amy narrowed her eyes at him. _ **"You sure?"**_

Ty nodded.

She tapped on her keyboard. _**"Maybe we could take a trip the two of us, somewhere closer?"**_

" _ **Yeah, that would be nice."**_

At Ty's smile, she started typing again. _**"After my eighteenth birthday, of course. ;)"**_

His stomach was already fluttering before he glanced over and saw the real smirk she was giving him. He swallowed hard. She grinned and took his hand in hers, and Ty forced himself to focus on her gray eyes, full of amusement and love; her light brown hair, brushing against her cheek; and her lips, still quirked mischievously. But it was only when they pulled into the school parking lot and stepped out of Matt's Prius that he felt like he could breathe again.

* * *

When Amy had told him the prom theme was supposed to be "enchanted forest," they'd been expecting over-the-top fantasy decorations—Amy had feared purple unicorn statues and life-sized papier-mâché dragons and fog machines—but this was actually pretty nice. Dark green and light green streamers and white lights arched from the ceiling and draped the walls, and lanterns and more white lights hung from poster board trees lining the room.

"No unicorns or dragons in sight," he whispered to Amy as they walked into the gym, She laughed and snuggled closer to his side.

" _Everybody clap your hands!"_

Amy wrinkled her nose "Really? They're starting with this?"

"I want to get some dessert before they've run out of the top choices," Matt said. "Do you guys want anything?"

"Uh, you may have to settle for the slightly mediocre choices!" Soraya said, nodding at the refreshments table, where Ashley stood sipping punch and laughing, one hand on her date's arm. "I am going to avoid Ashley tonight, so help me God."

Matt held his palms out. "But there are raspberry cheesecake cookies!"

Soraya raised her eyebrows dramatically. "But Ashley!"

Matt sighed equally as dramatically. "All right." He let Soraya drag him back to the dance floor.

" _Take it back now, y'all! One hop this time!"_

Ty looked at Amy. "What about you?"

She glanced up at him and made a face. "I really don't want to talk to Ashley right now. But I don't really want to do the cha-cha slide, and I could use something to drink."

"I can go get you something," Ty said, glancing over at the table again. "Maybe she won't notice me."

"She'll notice you." Amy sighed and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "Let's get this over with."

Sure enough, Ashley spotted them as soon as they got to the table. She grabbed her date's arm and pulled him over. "Amy! How _are_ you? You look nice! Is that one of Lou's old dresses?"

Stacking cookies on a little plate, Ty watched Amy out of the corner of his eye. She gave Ashley a tight smile as she accepted a cup of ice water from the teacher in charge of drinks. "Yes." Ty held out a little plate to her and took her cup of water, and she proceeded to fill her plate with desserts.

Ashley smiled with all her teeth. "Some dresses _never_ go out of style!"

Amy raised her eyebrows and bit pointedly into her brownie. "Mmmhmm."

Ashley smoothed a hand over her long, sleeveless red dress. " _My_ mother had _my_ dress custom made."

Amy nodded. "It fits you well." She motioned Ty toward the dance floor.

" _Hands on your knees! Hands on your knees!"_

Before they could move off, Ashley tugged her date forward. "Oh, this is David. But you _probably_ already knew that since he _is_ the starting quarterback."

Amy nodded again. "Yep."

David grinned broadly. "Was. We are seniors, after all." He wrapped an arm around Ashley's waist. "I can't wait to get the hell out of Meadowville."

" _Reverse! Reverse! Reverse! Reverse!"_

Ashley placed a hand on David's chest. "David got a _full_ football scholarship to Virginia Tech." She looked over at Amy, blonde hair flipping over her shoulder. "Aren't _you_ going to Virginia Tech, Amy?"

"Yes, Ashley. I told you that back in April." Amy took another brownie.

" _That's_ right! You'll have to keep an eye on David for me."Ashley looked over at Ty, and he braced himself for a comment about his suit, which wasn't exactly new. He didn't care, but he knew Amy would be irritated. "And David can keep an eye on Amy for _you_ , Ty! Can you _believe_ they're leaving us? I'm going to miss David _so much_!" She kissed David on the lips, and he gave her a tolerant smile.

"And I'm sure _you're_ going to miss Amy!" Ashley pouted and threw a hand in the general direction of the rest of the room. "Everybody's _leaving_ us! We're going to be the _only_ two people left." She laughed brightly. "We'll have to keep each other company!"

Ty put his arm around Amy's waist. "I think we'll both be pretty busy. Aren't you helping your mom with her business?"

"Oh, that. Yes, but we can't work _all_ the time!" Leading David to the dance floor, Ashley glanced back over her shoulder and smiled knowingly at Ty. "You know where to find me!"

As they walked away, Amy closed her eyes and shook her head. "Unbelievable." She shoved the last piece of her brownie into her mouth and chewed far more fiercely than a brownie needed to be chewed.

Ty tugged her closer to him. "Hey, I'm not going to hang out with Ashley; don't worry."

"And I am _not_ going to hang out with David. He was in my geometry class, and he's really obnoxious." She sighed and tossed her empty plate into the trash can. "I guess I just hate being reminded that I'm leaving you."

Ty half-smiled at her. "I know." He kissed her forehead and, taking her hand, led her away from the table.

They found Matt and Soraya flopped on a bench beneath a group of poster board trees and looking slightly winded after all the clapping, stomping, hopping, and reversing. "Did Ashley hold you hostage for that long?" Soraya asked.

Amy pursed her lips. "Well, I think she managed to work in all her insults and awkward flirtations for the evening."

Matt used his tie to wipe his forehead. "Good. Can we go get cookies now? And some punch?"

Soraya laughed. "Yes, you poor, starving, dehydrated man." They headed to the refreshment table, and as the next song started, Ty took Amy in his arms and they edged away from the poster board trees to move to the music.

Amy's fingers tightened around his hands, and their eyes met. He couldn't look away as they danced in their little spot on the gym floor. He knew how much she loved him, but in moments like this, he could _see_ it shining in her eyes and her smile.

" _I never felt nothing in the world like this before_ _._ _Now I'm missing you, and I'm wishing you would come back through my door_ _._ _Oh, why did you have to go?_ _"_

It was only when someone spoke Amy's name that he broke his gaze. Another couple circled close to them, a whirl of colors: the girl wore a short purple dress and had blue streaks in her straight black hair, and the boy wore a bright blue tux and had green tips in his spiked blonde hair.

"You look great!" the girl said to Amy. "Is this Ty?"

Amy smiled at him and glanced at the other girl. "Yes."

The girl raised her eyebrows at Ty, who felt himself flush, and looked back at Amy. "Well! Good to finally see you, Ty. And good for you, Amy. Good. For. You." She grinned pointedly, and she and the boy moved away.

Amy pressed her lips together, holding in a laugh, and glanced over at the girl before looking up at Ty. "That's Nakai. We've had English classes together since freshman year. She's been excited to meet you ever since I told her we were coming."

Ty laughed, trying to keep any self-consciousness out of the sound. "She seems nice."

"Uh huh." Amy grinned at Ty, and he just breathed another laugh.

" _So, baby, I will wait for you_ _,_ _'cause I don't know what else I can do."_

They made their way around the dance floor, at one point circling near a group of whispering girls surrounding Nakai, who very unsubtly pointed at Ty. The girl standing next to Nakai gave Amy a thumbs-up, and the group resumed their whispering.

Amy shook her head, gave Ty a helpless smile, and shrugged. "You do look very handsome tonight, you know." She brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"And you look amazing." He put his hands on her hips, and she circled her arms around his neck.

" _Baby, why can't we just, just start over again_ _—g_ _et it back to the way it was?_ _If you give me a chance, I can love you right_ _,_ _but you're telling me it won't be enough."_

"You know, this is kind of a sad song." Amy narrowed her eyes. "Why are they playing a sad song at prom?"

"Because it's one of the songs from last year's Billboard Top 100 that isn't explicitly about sex." Apparently Matt had gotten his fill of dessert and punch, because he and Soraya were now dancing next to them.

"Shut up, Matt." Amy buried her face in Ty's chest. He tightened his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. She didn't seem sad—maybe slightly flustered from her classmates' reactions and a little irritated at the song, but not truly sad—so he decided to just enjoy the closeness.

" _I really need you in my life_ _._ _No matter what I have to do_ _,_ _I'll wait for you."_

"It's true, you know," Ty said quietly.

Amy drew a breath and looked up at him, eyes warm. "I know."

* * *

Amy and Ty made their way toward the barn, their shadows cast by the taillights on Matt's car lengthening and then shrinking ahead of them as the car disappeared down the driveway behind them. They stopped next to Ty's truck, holding hands and facing each other, surrounded by the soft glow of the barn lights, the whir of early summer bugs, and the peeping chorus of late spring frogs. A light breeze teased the ends of Amy's hair as she smiled up at him, and Ty felt his chest ache with love for her.

"Thank you for going with me," she said softly.

Ty nodded. "Of course."

"You know, as weird as it was having everybody react to you like that, it also made me feel . . . proud, I guess." She took a breath. "I mean, I know I picked an amazing guy, but . . . it's nice when other people see it too, you know?"

Ty breathed a laugh, unable to tear his eyes from her face. "Thanks."

"I love you so much." She put her hands on his shoulders and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

The kiss was slow and sweet, and her dress was soft beneath his hands, but Ty drew in a breath through his nose and broke the kiss before—well, before he couldn't make himself.

A corner of Amy's mouth tugged up in an impish grin as she pressed her forehead against his. "Not too much longer now," she whispered.

Ty nodded. It was all he could do; her words and her tone had sucked all the breath from his lungs. _She's so beautiful_.

Her grin deepened as she stepped back and took his hand. "Walk me home?"

He managed to breathe a laugh. "I think that's a good idea."

Her laughter echoed down the dark, still yard. When the porch light came on the second they stepped onto the driveway, he started laughing too.


	15. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 11

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 11**

 _May 17, 2008_

The day before Dad was supposed to get home from his trip, Ty stood at the kitchen sink scrubbing at mud and grass stains on his work jeans and trying to figure out what to get Amy for her birthday. It was more than three weeks away, but those three weeks were going to be packed: Dad was getting home tomorrow; Mom wanted to take a family trip over Memorial Day weekend; he and Amy were supposed to visit Dazzle at the beginning of June; and he'd promised to help Lee practice driving whenever they both had free time. The sooner he figured out a present, the better.

He wanted her to be able to take the gift with her to Virginia Tech, but he didn't want it to be something directly related to Virginia Tech or to college. So, no Virginia Tech sweatshirt, no Hokies blanket, no backpack or bookstore gift card.

He could, though, give her something she could keep in her room for now and put in her dorm room later on. She wasn't a stuffed animal person. She did like pillows—a lot. That was an idea. . . .

The scrape of the key in the lock jolted Ty from his thoughts. Mom must have gotten off—or taken off—early. He kept running the jeans under hot water but glanced over his shoulder to check whether Mom had come home early out of excitement to begin preparing for Dad's return or out of overwhelmed exhaustion.

Ty sucked in a breath when he saw Dad, not Mom, standing in the doorway. He quickly shut off the water and turned around. Dad had become much less difficult over the past year, but Ty figured his hatred of waste would never change, and he was pretty sure the amount of soap and water he (and Jack and Lou, back at Heartland) had used trying to clean his jeans would count as waste in Brad Baldwin's eyes. "Hey, you got home early."

Dad nodded as he toed off his boots and set his cup of McDonald's coffee on the half wall. "Made good time today. Not much traffic." Carrying his coffee, he made his way into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Ty winced mentally as Dad glanced over at him. "Not much food, either, huh?"

The slight grin in the corner of Dad's mouth dissolved the anxiety tightening Ty's shoulders. He smiled, wry and apologetic. "Mom and I were going to go grocery shopping tonight." He nodded at a container on the counter. "I brought cookies from Heartland, though."

"That'll work." Sounding pleased, he opened the container and grabbed a few cookies. He ate one before asking, "Mind if I drive your truck to the mall? I didn't have a chance to pick up a Mother's Day present for your mom."

Ty still hadn't gotten over feeling slightly weird but grateful that Dad now asked to borrow his truck instead of just saying he was going to take it. He nodded. "Is the car okay?"

"Needed an oil change. Mike dropped me off. Why they didn't take care of that while I was gone . . . " He shook his head and bit another cookie.

Ty huffed in understanding. "Hey, is it okay if I go with you? I need to look for a birthday present for Amy."

"Sure." Moving to toss his empty McDonald's cup into the trash can beneath the sink, he caught a glimpse of Ty's jeans. "What happened there?" He raised his eyebrows.

Dad looked faintly amused and curious, rather than irritated, and Ty breathed a laugh. "Amy's pony knocked me into a mud puddle and then dragged me through the field."

A hint of a wry grin on his lips, Dad asked, "One of the horses we rescued?"

Ty shook his head and tried to press some water out of the soaked jeans. "Amy's had Sundance for a long time. He's something else." He pulled the jeans out of the sink and, holding them at the waist, flapped them so that they stood straight. The green and brown stains were slightly fainter, but he didn't think he could sew the gaping holes in the knees in a way that would keep them from tearing again.

"Hm." Dad wiped cookie crumbs from his stubble. "Lemme get you another pair while we're at the mall."

Ty blinked at Dad's words—he didn't think Dad had bought him clothes since he'd started working at Heartland full-time, four years ago—and the way they'd come out as half-statement, half-question. "Sure."

With a nod, Dad started down the hallway to the master bedroom. "I'm gonna take a shower. I'll be ready in ten minutes."

Shaking his head and breathing a laugh, Ty tossed his jeans into the laundry hamper and went to his room to change.

* * *

They rode to the mall in a comfortable silence, Dad's Steely Dan tape playing in the background. Ty stared out the window and pondered, not for the first time, the weirdness of the gradual reappearance over the past year of the Dad he remembered from before he was ten years old and their lives changed in ways Ty still didn't fully understand.

No matter how much Ty had told Amy that things had started to get better after his accident, it all really started after Dad had brought that trailer full of horses to Heartland that hot spring day. Dad had finally seen the value in Ty's job—and in the horses they helped. And then, a few weeks later, Dad had taken him bowling, just like he'd suggested at that family dinner before he'd left on that fateful trip, and he'd sat in the truck in the bowling alley parking lot and apologized.

" _I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few weeks." The next moment would etch itself permanently into Ty's memory—the noise of the rain on the truck windows seemed to muffle and the lingering chill from the air conditioning suddenly felt warm and, most of all, the look of genuine regret (mixed with slight discomfort) on Dad's face as he looked him straight in the eye and said, "I want to apologize to you, Ty."_

 _Ty raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Dad continued. "I know I've been real hard on you for—well, for years. Too hard. I'm sorry for that. You've worked real hard, Ty. You do good work. And I'm proud of you."_

 _As he felt his shoulders relax from being unconsciously tight, he took half a moment to make sure his voice would be steady, and then he said, "Thank you. That means a lot."_

 _Dad looked away and nodded before getting out of the truck. Ty could sense his awkwardness, so he just followed him into the bowling alley. After Dad paid for the lane and their shoes, Ty caught his eye and gave him a single grateful nod. And then they dropped it and focused on the game. It was the most fun Ty remembered having with Dad in a long time._

Dad was still quiet—sometimes enigmatically so—and he could still be unnecessarily harsh out of old habit, but he nearly always apologized before any of them even pointed out what he'd done. And that was the thing: now they actually _could_ point it out if necessary. Before, bringing it to Dad's attention would result in tight-lipped, narrow-eyed silence that simmered before bursting out into cutting words meant to end any discussion; now, pointing out unfair criticism might result in an angry look and grim silence at first, but the end result was always a real, if quiet and gruff, apology.

They pulled into the mall parking lot near Sears, where Dad always parked. Dad pulled into a spot and dug out his wallet. He handed Ty two twenties. "Get yourself two pairs of jeans if you can. Meet at the food court in half an hour?"

Glancing down at the money in his hand, Ty nodded. "Sounds good."

After quickly finding two pairs of jeans on the clearance rack at JC Penney, he wandered around the bedding section, trying to find a pillow or even a blanket for Amy, but they were too plain, too decorative, or too expensive. That took up most of his allotted half-hour, so he headed for the food court, where he found Dad at a table with a Bath & Body Works bag on the seat next to him. Ty grinned to himself; Dad hated that store—said it was always crowded and hot and smelled like too many fragrances mixed together—but Mom made no secret of the fact that she loved their lotion, especially Sun-Ripened Raspberry.

"You find your jeans?" Dad asked him as he sat down.

"Two pairs."

Ty pulled out his wallet to give Dad the change, but Dad shook his head. "I'm not worried about that."

Ty raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Thanks."

They headed back to the truck, Steely Dan playing again in the background as they drove home, but Ty could see the thoughtful lines below Dad's eyes. After he pulled onto the highway, he flicked a glance over at Ty. "How was your mom while I was gone?"

Ty knew Mom and Dad had talked on the phone a few times the past two weeks, but Mom tended to gloss over her bad days. "She slept a lot the first week. This week she worked four days."

Dad nodded. "She told me she didn't get to see you and Amy all dressed up for prom. Tried to hide how disappointed she was."

"Yeah, she was pretty upset about that. We took a lot of pictures for her, though."

"Hm." Stopping at the traffic light after their exit, Dad glanced over at him again. "Paladin's hiring truck mechanics."

Dad's words felt like a punch in Ty's gut. He thought Dad didn't want him to get a different job anymore. Shoving down his frustration, he managed to say, "Yeah?"

"I have an interview next Tuesday for head mechanic—though why they have to interview me when I've worked there for three years . . . " Dad shook his head.

Ty felt all his irritation dissipate, and then he felt silly for his assumption. "Where would you be working?"

"The warehouse here in town." Dad gave him a significant look.

"So, no more traveling?"

"If this pans out. Don't say anything to your mom yet."

"I won't." Ty shifted in his seat and glanced out the window. Dad had always been gone—or had gone away—when things were tough. Ty knew it wasn't a coincidence that when Mom first began showing signs of depression, Dad took a job that would take him away for weeks at a time. He was glad Dad now seemed to recognize that his absences hadn't made that problem go away but had instead made them worse. It would be weird having Dad around more often—but in a good way, Ty hoped.

Dad's voice broke through his thoughts. "You find a present for Amy?"

"Not yet. I have time, though." _A little time, anyway._

"Looking for anything in particular?"

"Something she can take with her to college. I'm not sure what, though." Ty shrugged.

"Hm. Where's she going again?"

"Virginia Tech."

Dad raised an eyebrow. "Expensive school."

"Yeah. Amy got a scholarship because of her work at Heartland, though." Despite Dad's new friendliness, Ty didn't think he should mention the fact that the scholarship only covered half of Amy's tuition; she'd had to take out loans to cover the rest.

Dad nodded. "Good for her." He paused. "She deserves that."

Ty glanced down to hide his smile.

Dad turned down the Steely Dan tape. "So, a present."

Ty took a breath. "I want it to be something that'll remind her of me." Rolling his eyes, he half-shrugged and breathed a laugh, but Dad looked thoughtful instead of mocking, and Ty wondered how long it would take for him to fully believe that Dad had changed for the better. He listened to the tape while Dad sat in pondering silence.

After a few minutes, Dad gave a nod and said, "Ask your mom about the ring her granddad gave her grandma. Amy might like something like that—not fancy, but . . . meaningful."

Ty nodded. "Okay. Yeah. I'll do that."

* * *

Ty brought it up that evening when he and Mom were working on food for the picnic. Dad had already gone to bed and Lee was studying, so they were trying to be quiet. Well, he was trying to be quiet; careless in hear eagerness to make her grandma's potato salad from scratch, Mom had already dropped a metal bowl, sending it clanging to the floor, and accidentally let a cabinet slam shut.

Now Ty was chopping potatoes into cubes while Mom filled her big soup pot with water to boil the potatoes. "Hey, make sure not to drop that," Ty whispered with a teasing half-grin as she carried the pot over to the stove.

She stuck her tongue out at him and set the pot carefully on the stove. "Sooo, how was your trip to the mall?"

"Good. Dad bought me jeans. Sundance wrecked the pair I wore to work."

"Oh! That's wonderful!" Mom beamed over her shoulder as she searched the cabinet next to the stove for spices.

"Yeah, it was nice." Ty held back a smile as he thought about how excited Mom would be if Dad got the job at the warehouse. After carefully carrying the cutting board covered in potatoes to the stove, he used the knife to slide the potatoes into the pot of water. "Hey, I told Dad I was looking for a present for Amy—something she can take to college with her. He said to ask you about a ring your grandpa gave your grandma."

Mom's eyes lit up as she clapped her hands together and whispered, "Oh! The Claddagh ring! That would be perfect for Amy! Well, you'd have to get her her own, of course; Granny was buried with hers." Mom tucked a strand of wayward curly hair behind her ear and attempted a semi-decent Irish accent. "Granny and Granddad were from Ireland, you know." Grinning, she dropped the accent. "They grew up there, and they were childhood sweethearts; isn't that romantic!"

Ty smiled and turned on the burner beneath the pot of potatoes before going to the fridge for mayonnaise.

"Their families moved to the U.S. when they were, oh, ten or twelve; I can't remember." She scooped mayonnaise into the metal bowl and added spices while Ty chopped celery. "Anyway, they were going to get married, but then World War II started and Granddad had to go fight. Before he left, he gave Granny a Claddagh ring so that she would know he was coming back to her, and then they would get married, and they did!"

Ty willed his face to keep from flushing. "I don't really want to get Amy an engagement ring for her birthday," he said with a breath of laughter, half wondering if he was lying and half wondering why Dad would suggest an engagement ring as a present.

"Oh! No, I'm sorry! It's not an engagement ring, not necessarily. It's—oh, it means different things depending on how you wear it." Scrunching up her face, she looked down at her hands. "Oh! If it's on your right hand—" she held up her right hand—"and facing out, that means your heart is free; you're not in a relationship; you just like how the ring looks." She laughed. "But if it's on your right hand and facing in, that means your heart belongs to someone special." She smiled over at him. "That's how Amy would wear hers."

Ty nodded, adding the celery to Mom's bowl of mayonnaise and spices. "What do they look like?"

Mom started washing the cutting board. "Oh, they're little silver rings—well, sometimes they can be gold, I guess, but Granny's was silver—and they have these two little hands coming around to hold a heart—" she put down the sponge and used her own soapy hands to demonstrate—"and there's a crown on top of the heart. They're so pretty, but not too fancy or expensive. I really think Amy would like it. She can wear it and think of you, and people will know her heart belongs to someone special." Setting the cutting board in the drying rack, she smiled at Ty.

Nodding, Ty gave her a half-grin in return. "Sounds like what I'm looking for." He went to the fridge for the eggs Mom had hard-boiled that morning.

Turning from stirring the potatoes, Mom shot him a sly smile and arched her eyebrows. "You know, if you wanted to turn it into an engagement ring one day, you absolutely could." She tapped her left ring finger. "She'd just have to switch it to her left hand, facing out! Though maybe she'd want an actual diamond ring. . . . "

Ty breathed a laugh. "We'll see." He refused to let himself wonder if he and Amy would make it that far. Instead, he started tapping the hard-boiled eggs against the counter to break the shells and wondered when he could get to the little jeweler's in town, because that ring sounded like the perfect gift for Amy.


	16. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 12

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 12**

 _August 23, 2008_

Nothing that summer went as Ty thought it would. His family's Memorial Day weekend trip got rained out; he and Amy hadn't been able to visit Dazzle because they'd been too busy with work at Heartland; and Lee had broken his ankle playing baseball, making driving lessons impossible.

And then Amy had had her accident the day they'd been planning to go out for her birthday. So there had been no birthday celebration of any kind; she'd spent a while recovering and then being understandably mad at Ty for keeping Fanfare's background from her. (Ty still wasn't sure why exactly he'd gone along with Lou's request to withhold that information from Amy.) He hadn't gotten to give her the Claddagh ring until last week, before Soraya's party.

And now summer was basically over. Sure, today was a muggy, sunny day in a seemingly endless string of muggy, sunny days. Fall didn't technically start for another four weeks, and even then, the heat would stick around for a while, at least during the day. But as Ty and Jack maneuvered Amy's dresser up a narrow flight of dorm hall stairs and into the room where she would be living for the next four months, Ty knew a season in his life—and Amy's—was about to end.

Amy and her roommate, India, scurried out of the way, and Jack and Ty settled the dresser in the only available corner of the room, wedged between Amy's bed and the window. "Well, that's the last of it," Jack said, taking a swig from the water bottle Amy handed him.

Ty glanced at Amy to find her looking back at him, quiet anxiety in her eyes. "Do you need help unpacking anything else?" he asked.

Amy shrugged one shoulder and took a step toward him, eyes flickering over to India, who sat cross-legged on the floor and rummaged through a shoebox. "I think we've got it."

Ty nodded. Amy had assured them that India, who was driving from South Carolina, wouldn't be there until at least an hour after they'd arrived, but they'd ended up walking in on her tearful goodbye with her parents. Helping Amy set up their dorm seemed to be keeping India from bursting into tears again.

Jack stepped forward to give Amy a hug. "I love you, honey. You're gonna do great." He kissed the top of her head.

"Thanks, Grandpa. Love you too." Amy's eyes shone just a little.

Jack stepped back, mustache quirked in a fond grin, and looked over at India. "It was good to meet you, India."

India shot him a wobbly smile. "Nice to meet you too." Her gaze shot immediately back to the photos she was sorting through to pin on her bulletin board.

Jack moved toward the door and touched Ty's shoulder. "I'm gonna try to move the truck to that parking lot across the street."

Ty breathed a laugh. "Good luck."

Jack shut the door, leaving Amy and Ty looking awkwardly from each other to India. She'd started sniffling again, swiping at her face every so often. Ty nodded toward the door, and Amy nodded back.

"Hey, India? I'll be right back." Amy smiled at her.

India bobbed her head rapidly before looking down at the photos in her hand, her curly red hair obscuring her face.

Ty followed Amy out to the loud, crowded hallway. They huddled close to her dorm room door, and Amy smiled ruefully. "I didn't feel like I should kick her out." She crossed her arms and shrugged one shoulder.

"No, I know. It's okay." Still, Ty's eyes flickered to all the students and family members carrying furniture and boxes and leaving and entering the other rooms. It didn't help at all that Amy's room was just two doors down from the stairwell, so everyone had to walk past or near them.

"Well, I guess this is it." Amy looked up at him, blinking, arms still crossed.

Ty felt his throat tighten. _Screw it._ He closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her and attempting to ignore all the other people. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on the sensation of Amy in his arms—her t-shirt was lightly damp with sweat, but her hair smelled of lavender, as always—but he couldn't drown out all the noise.

"I'll call you every day," Amy said into his chest.

They'd had this conversation before, but Ty still felt like he needed to remind her somehow that she was going to be really busy—without actually reminding her specifically that she was going to be really busy. Lou had mentioned it to her too many times over the past few weeks. The pain in his throat had subsided enough for him to say, "Texting's good too."

"Yeah, but calling is better. So I'm going to, starting tonight. I'll call you as soon as that stupid dinner they're making everybody go to is over."

He breathed a laugh. "Looking forward to hearing about it."

"I wish I could just get something to eat with you and Grandpa."

 _Me too._ "At least you'll know India."

"Yeah, we can both cry into our pizza."

A male voice broke into their conversation, startling them apart. "Hey, is this room 303?" A sweaty blonde man in his twenties, followed by an equally sweaty blonde teenage girl, stood in front of them, both carrying overloaded cardboard boxes.

"Ah, no, sorry, it's 302. You want the room right there." Amy pointed to the door directly next to hers.

"Right. Thanks."

Amy waited til they'd disappeared into that room to roll her eyes. "Counting's overrated, I guess." She stepped forward, intent on Ty's mouth, and he felt his insides quake a little. "Before someone else interrupts us . . . "

Ty smiled just before she leaned in to kiss him. They broke apart what felt like far too quickly, but given their surroundings, it would have felt weird otherwise. "I love you," he said softly, moving toward the stairwell door.

"I love you too." She hesitated for a moment, fiddling with her Claddagh ring—a habit of hers Ty had noticed from the night he'd given her the ring—before giving him a last trembling smile. Then, in one swift motion, she turned, opened her door, and disappeared into her room, the door shutting with a final click.

 _I don't know if it was better or worse that she didn't cry in front of me._ Ty held the stairwell door open for two women in their forties as they eased a mattress from the stairs and into the hall. He managed to smile at them, accepting their out-of-breath thanks, before closing the door and heading down the stairs himself. He smeared a hand below his eyes, drawing in a ragged breath. With each step he took, he _felt_ the distance between him and Amy growing.

Ty shook his head at himself. _It feels that way because the distance is_ literally _growing._ He emerged into the August humidity and squinted at the sunlight slanting through the trees. _It's going to be fine. We're going to be fine._ Heading for the parking lot where Jack said he'd be, Ty found himself glad that Amy had insisted she'd call him that night.

As soon as he'd settled in the passenger's seat, Jack turned and looked at him and asked the question Ty knew he'd ask. "You all right?"

Ty looked back at him and shrugged. "Are you?" Amy had lived with Jack since she was three years old, and as cheerful as he'd been the whole day, Ty knew this couldn't be easy for him.

Jack directed his gaze at the windshield and chuckled, a little unsteady. "Y'know, I, ah . . . " He cleared his throat. "It's gonna take some getting used to."

"Yeah. She's lived with you for fifteen years."

"Yes, she has, and I've loved every minute of it. But I know she's gonna do great here." Jack smiled at Ty from beneath his mustache. "And as long as the two of you keep holding on to that love I know you've got for each other, you'll be just fine."

Ty nodded and waited for his throat to unclench, looking out at the parking lot and blinking. Finally, he said, "Thanks, Jack."

Jack shifted the truck into drive. "Now, what do you say we get out of this mess"—he peered out at the cars and trucks clogging the road through campus—"and grab a bite to eat? I think I spotted a sign for a Roy Rogers a couple exits up."

"Sounds good." Ty glanced back once more at Amy's dorm, and when he looked forward, he caught Jack doing the same. Jack huffed a sigh and shook his head, and they exchanged wry smiles. Then Jack eased the truck out of his parking space and drove them away.


	17. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 13

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 13**

 _October 4, 2008_

The evening after Virginia Tech beat Western Kentucky 27–13 in their homecoming game, Ty found himself sitting on a beat-up leather couch in a packed, hot, noisy off-campus apartment suite, beating Amy's very drunk classmate Evan at Need for Speed.

 _Who knew all those hours of playing with Lee would come in so handy_ , Ty reflected as he drifted his racecar around a sharp turn to avoid a police barricade. _Because clearly my goal for the day was to beat three college guys who've had at least two six-packs among them at a game meant for middle schoolers._

He suppressed a sigh and took a sip of his Pepsi, setting it back on the end table just before Evan jabbed him for probably the dozenth time in an attempt to grab another beer while holding onto his PS2 controller. All Ty knew about the guy he'd be staying with that night was that he was a pre-vet student and he had very pointy elbows. _And he really likes Virginia Tech football. And PBR_.

Ty took his eyes off the screen for a second to glance over at Amy, who was standing in a corner with her own soda, laughing and talking with a few other girls. At least, he thought it was soda. He thought he'd spotted some root beer in dark brown bottles, like the one she had in her hand, whereas the beer seemed to be in cans. Surely Amy hadn't changed that much.

He suppressed a sigh. He'd had a long day. First had been the drive to Virginia Tech; in all the homecoming traffic, the two-hour drive had taken him four hours even though he'd left early. Ty was glad he was staying on campus overnight, even if he would be staying in the same room as the guy who'd just stabbed him with his elbow yet again—and sloshed beer onto Ty's jeans in the process.

"Whoops! Sorry, man." Evan tried to grab a napkin but ended up falling on his face on the coffee table. Apparently he was fine, because he just laughed hysterically. Then his racecar crashed into a tree, which made him laugh even harder.

"It's fine." Ty stood up, having won the game by default. He grabbed his soda and wove his way through the groups of students jammed into the room. He grabbed a soggy piece of pizza from a box, briefly wondering how long it had been sitting out before biting into it anyway, hopeful it would give him back a little energy.

After the four-hour drive, he'd had to maneuver the overwhelmingly huge, crowded campus that seemed even more overwhelmingly huge and crowded than usual as students, parents, faculty, and alumni packed in for homecoming. When he'd finally found a parking space, he'd already felt half-drained—until he knocked on Amy's dorm room door and she burst out and tackled him in a hug.

He glanced over at her again, and she caught his eye and grinned. Today was the first time they'd seen each other in three weeks, and that made any exhaustion worthwhile.

She hadn't been able to come home every weekend like she'd wanted, and while Ty had expected it, it was still tough. Heartland kept him busier than ever, with the work split between two people instead of three, but somehow he missed Amy even more. He knew, though, that it made more sense for her to spend her weekends on campus, studying in her dorm or at the library, rather than spending four hours of her weekend traveling and then spending most of her time at Heartland shut up in her room, frustrated at having to do homework instead of being with her family, Ty, and the horses.

It just made him glad to be there now, in the same room as her, even if the pizza wasn't really restoring any of his energy. He needed to get away, but he didn't want to leave her, and she still seemed in deep conversation with her friends.

She seemed so comfortable here, on this big, formidable campus with all the people bustling everywhere, and he was glad. Her first few weeks had been really difficult; she'd called him crying more than once, and he'd hated that he couldn't hold her. But she'd found her footing, thanks to new friends and kind professors, and now she seemed to be just as comfortable and happy as she'd ever been at Heartland.

(Ty wouldn't let himself think about how that made him feel just a little weird. _We're good. We're still good. This is working._ )

Someone touched his arm, and he looked up to see Amy standing next to him. "Hey."

"Hey! You okay?"

"Just a little tired. I'm all right, though." He smiled at her.

"Are you ready to get out of here?"

Ty shrugged even as the guys still playing Need for Speed cheered drunkenly and he felt his energy drain even further. "If you still want to hang out, I'm fine."

Amy narrowed her eyes. "Someone took your place." She nodded toward the blonde young woman now sitting in the spot Ty had occupied, whooping with the rest of them. "What're you going to do now?"

So she'd noticed that he hadn't really joined any conversations. Ty shrugged again and ate the last bite of his pizza, trying to think of something he could do. He could stand with her while she talked to her friends. While they'd been excited to meet him, they hadn't really made much of an effort to include him in their conversations—which was fine; Ty was fine with listening. But he didn't want to stand there awkwardly.

"C'mon, let's get out of here." Amy threw her bottle away—Ty noticed it was indeed root beer—and, waving at her friends, tugged him toward the door.

The hallway and the stairwell were no less crowded and noisy than the apartment had been, and they squeezed their way outside, Ty hoping none of the people hanging over the stair railing would fall to the ground floor. Even outside, there was still yelling and music and clusters of people, but the air was cool and the stars were bright. Ty took a deep breath and felt a little better as they walked to his truck.

Amy grabbed his hand. "Was there anything else you wanted to do tonight—anything you wanted to see?"

Ty shook his head. "Unless there's anything you wanted me to see."

"I wish I could show you the stables—or Chestnut Hill! Oh, I'd love for you to meet Ali. But it's pretty late. Maybe in the morning before you have to leave?"

Ty smiled and nodded. "I'd really like that. But I'm okay with just turning in for the night." _More than okay._ His head felt fuzzy even though he hadn't drunk anything stronger than a Pepsi.

Amy hesitated briefly, and Ty wondered if he'd disappointed her. But she nodded. "Okay."

They'd just climbed into Ty's truck when he realized— _I can't get into Evan's dorm_. He grimaced inwardly at the thought of having to go back to the party. "Hey, I'll be right back. I need to see if Evan will let me use his key card." _Since I doubt he's ready—or able—to leave the party._

Amy put a hand on his arm, keeping him from hopping out of the truck. "Actually . . . um, India went home for the weekend. She just decided to yesterday. So, um, why don't you—" she shrugged one shoulder and took a breath—"stay with me?"

Looking at the blush on her cheeks and the shy gleam in her eyes, visible in the glow of the street light he'd parked near, Ty understood that she'd been thinking about whether to ask him all day. He felt his stomach quiver even though he knew he was too tired to do anything but sleep in Amy's dorm. "You sure?"

Amy looked him in the eyes. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."

Ty swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"All right. Back to my dorm, then." Amy flopped back in her seat; Ty could tell she was fighting a grin.

They drove in half-anticipatory, half-anxious silence for a while, stopping and starting to avoid wobbly, cheering, bottle-holding pedestrians, before Ty asked, "Do you need to let Evan know I'm not staying with him?"

Amy shook her head. "He's not going to remember."

"Does he get drunk like that a lot?"

Amy laughed. "Only when Virginia Tech wins a football game."

 _So you've been around him before when it's happened. You're okay hanging out with people who get that drunk?_ Ty stopped to let a pair of female students decked out in Hokies gear cross the road. _At least he seems like a loud, happy drunk, not a loud, mean one._

"Did you have fun today?"

Ty nodded as he pulled onto the main road. "Yeah. It was cool being at a football stadium that big. And it was great that they won for homecoming." He was more of a baseball guy (though he hadn't latched onto a team the way Dad and Lee had), but he'd never been to a football game, let alone a homecoming game, at a huge stadium with a good team. The sea of burgundy and orange, the deafening cheers, and the game itself had combined for quite the experience.

Plus Amy had jumped up and down and cheered and screamed like she'd been a lifelong Hokies fan. It had been pretty adorable to watch. Ty glanced over at her and half-grinned. "I didn't know you were that into football. You should've been down there with the cheerleaders."

Amy smiled self-consciously. "I just got caught up in it, I guess." She paused. "I'm glad you got to meet my friends, but I'm sorry you didn't get to talk to them more."

Ty thought he caught a hint of reproach in her voice, and he wondered if he should've stood next to Amy, however awkward it would've been, while she talked with her friends. "They seem really nice."

"They are. Katie said it seemed like something was bothering you, though."

Ty shook his head. "I've just had a long day."

"We didn't have to go to the party."

Ty narrowed his eyes but kept his tone light. _I'm too tired to deal with this._ "That's where all your friends were, though. And you had fun."

"But did you?"

Ty sighed. "It's . . . not really my kind of thing."

"Ty! You should've said something instead of sitting there looking miserable."

 _Did I look miserable? I tried not to._ "I wanted you to have fun with your friends," he said calmly.

"I can have fun with my friends any time! This was my weekend to spend time with you!"

"Maybe we should've picked a different weekend." The words, quiet and tired, were out before Ty could stop them. They were stopped at a red light, and he scrubbed a hand across his bleary eyes.

"Maybe we should have." Amy sighed, and Ty could see her deflating out of the corner of his eye. "I just . . . you'd never been to anything like this before—" she swept a hand across the windshield, gesturing toward the banners hanging from the street lights and the streamers and other parade debris littering the sidewalk and road—"and I thought . . . I don't know."

The light turned green, and Ty turned left at the empty intersection. _I don't know either._ Amy sniffled next to him. Feeling terrible for making her cry, Ty reached for her hand. "Look, I'm just glad to be here with you. That's all that matters."

Amy threaded her fingers through his. "I can't believe I didn't notice you were miserable. I can't believe _Katie_ had to point it out to me."

Ty shook his head. "You were just caught up in all the excitement. And I wasn't miserable. Just tired."

"You were a little miserable."

Ty breathed a laugh. "Okay, maybe I was, at least after Evan had elbowed me in the ribs for the twelfth time."

Amy chuckled. "That would do it."

Ty parked the car in front of Amy's residence hall and came around to her side of the truck. She hopped down and he wrapped her in his arms. "We're good, okay?" he whispered into her hair. "I'm fine. I just need to sleep."

She nodded against his chest. "Let's get you to bed, then."

Ty sucked in a breath and, grabbing his duffel bag, followed her up the stairs to her dorm room.

00000

After showering and changing in the men's room (with his feet shoved into a pair of Amy's flip-flops; he hadn't quite anticipated how gross dorm bathrooms were), Ty lay in the dark in Amy's dorm. He was curled up on her bed, facing the wall, while she lay on India's.

Between the people still milling in the hallway and partying in dorms all around them and the thought that Amy was trying to sleep literally feet away, Ty wasn't sure he would be able to sleep. And from the sounds of blankets shifting and crinkling across the room, Amy seemed to be having somewhat of the same issue.

Finally he heard a huff and a thud and then a creak. "What are you doing?"

"Help me move this."

He rolled over to see her tugging at India's bedpost. Breathing a laugh, he hopped off the bed. Between the two of them, they easily slid India's bed over next to Amy's.

"There we go." Hands on her hips, Amy nodded for Ty to climb in first. He lay on his back in the middle of Amy's bed (as much as there was a middle; he basically took up the whole thing), but she scooted right to the edge of India's, propped up on an elbow to face him. "Thank you for coming to see me today."

"I'd do it all again." He knew he would, even if it meant dealing with traffic and huge crowds and unfamiliar faces. Amy was still facing him, and he gestured toward the wall. "Look, I know it's weird, but I can only fall asleep lying that way."

He heard the laughter in her voice. "Weirdo."

"I don't—" he yawned—"know why."

"It's okay, Ty."

He heard her shift next to him, and then she was pressed against his back, one arm curling around him. Even as exhaustion finally overtook him, he managed to raise his arm a little so that her hand was tucked beneath it. And as the sound of her slow, steady breathing overtook even the noise of the rowdy students, he fell asleep.


	18. Part 2: In-Between, Chapter 14

**Part 2: In-Between**

 **Chapter 14**

 _October 7, 2008_

"Have I mentioned how much I hate my history professor?"

"A few times, yeah." Ty half-grinned in spite of Amy's frustrated tone and, sinking down onto his bed, wedged his phone between his ear and his shoulder so that he could take off his boots.

"Well, now I really, really hate him."

Ty leaned against his headboard and crossed his legs at the ankles. "What did he do?"

"Well, instead of having us take a regular midterm test like all my other, nice professors, he's making us write a take-home essay that's due next Tuesday."

"Okay . . . "

"I have no time to write an essay this week, and then Monday I'm supposed to help a student with a horse at Chestnut Hill! Which means I'll have to write it this weekend!"

"Oh." Ty felt a sudden flash of dislike for Amy's history professor too. _No, that's dumb. I don't even know him. This is just what college means._

"I'm going to try to write it all on Friday so that I don't have to think about it the rest of the weekend." Amy huffed a sigh. "It's bad enough that I wasn't able to talk to you at all yesterday because I was studying for that math midterm. Now I have to spend Friday writing a stupid essay instead of going on a trail ride with you."

Despite yesterday's usual busyness with the horses, it had been really weird not talking to Amy. But Ty had understood that her studying needed to take priority, and he'd tried to reassure her when she'd texted him that she couldn't call him that evening that if they couldn't talk other times this semester, it would be okay—they would be okay.

He did feel a stab of disappointment, but he tried not to let that feeling bleed into his tone. "Hey, we can do that on Saturday instead."

Amy sighed again. "I guess."

 _If it doesn't rain._ He was pretty sure the forecast was calling for showers Saturday and Sunday. If that happened, they would just have to figure something else out, but he knew it wouldn't compare. Amy had mentioned missing the fall colors on the trail on Clairdale Ridge, and by the time she could come home again for Thanksgiving break, the red and orange leaves would probably have faded to brown.

"So what are you going to do Friday night—I mean, since you don't have to write an essay?" Amy's tone was light, but Ty could tell she was forcing it.

He pushed his hair off his forehead only for it to flop back down again. "I'll probably just hang out at home. I might watch the baseball game with my dad and Lee." Actually, that was exactly what he was going to do, and thinking about it lifted his disappointment just a little, but he didn't want to make Amy feel bad that he was going to have a good time while she was stuck in her room writing.

"Oh, right—the Phillies are in the World Series, right?"

Ty smiled to himself. "Right now it's just the series before that—the Championship Series, but my dad's sure hoping they go to the World Series."

"Well, maybe if I need a break from writing, I'll text you for updates." She heaved a final, frustrated sigh. "I should probably go. English midterm tomorrow."

"Okay." Ty stood and headed to the dresser for the t-shirt and shorts he wore as pajamas. "Hey, I can't wait to see you in just three days. Even if it's just for a few minutes before you have to disappear into your room. And you're gonna do great on your midterms."

"Thanks," Amy said wryly. "I'm not sure how great that math midterm went today, but we'll see."

Ty folded up his jeans. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Ty set his phone on his nightstand and, switching off the lamp, got into bed. As he settled under the blanket, he sighed lightly. Maybe Thanksgiving break would go more smoothly.


End file.
